


Nowhere to Hide, Nowhere to run

by Ethereal_Xen



Series: Nowhere to Run, Nowhere to Hide [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Dean, Cas is over dean's shit, Depressed Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, Heartache, M/M, Oral Sex, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Dean, Top Castiel, Violence (chapter 9), Wing Kink, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-04 06:39:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 51,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13358649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereal_Xen/pseuds/Ethereal_Xen
Summary: Castiel has been back from the empty for a while now, and he was returned with his grace and wings intact. He is at full strength and after all the crap he has put up with from Dean over the years a small argument about Cas' fragility turns into a point being made and lines being crossed that should never be broached. Can their friendship survive? Will Cas leave forever? Will Dean finally get the proverbial stick out of his arse and tell Cas how he feels?





	1. I'm an Angel of the Lord, you Ass.

The hunt had been successful in terms of the family business. People were saved that should be saved and things were killed that should be killed, but as the trio returned to the motel that night an outsider could have been forgiven for thinking that they had suffered some horrible outcome or other by the way they entered their room.

Sam was first and, not being an actual part of the problem in question was clearly the most neutral about the situation. But that didn’t stop him being visibly frustrated. He sighed audibly as he turned the key in the lock of their double room and opened the door,

“Dean, you could at least wait until we’re inside before you start yelling. Or, you know, calm down. I don’t even know what the problem actually is.”

“I am calm!” Dean yelled as he followed Sam into the room, unable to see the dramatic eye roll from the taller Winchester in front of him. “And how the hell can you not see the problem? Superangel over here tried to get himself killed tonight. How long as he been back in the land of the living? Anyone?” He looked from Sam’s back where he was now leaning into the fridge to where Castiel had moved into the room and was standing by the couch with his arms crossed. He was clearly seething and his eyes narrowed at Dean’s question.

“No? Well _I_ can answer,” Dean continued angrily, “four months!” He held up four fingers as if to illustrate his point, “four god damn months, one week, and six damn days.” He finally put down his pack, throwing the duffel with rage against the bed he had been sleeping in during their hunt.

Sam had pulled himself out of the fridge with three beers, but he stiffened at the precision of Dean’s running count of Cas’ return. Cas could see it all. He hadn’t told them that he had been completely restored upon entry to the empty, that his grace had been restored and that his wings were intact. That he could see their souls in full.

Their souls were telling a very interesting story in that moment. Dean’s was full of righteous rage and fear, so much that he had tunnel vision and was letting himself through in a way he wouldn’t normally, it was all violent reds, oranges, and yellows. Sam’s had been fairly calm until that moment, exasperated greys and greens with some frustrated iced blues. But in that moment his soul froze in a steel grey and ice blue. He wanted to run, he suddenly felt he shouldn’t be there.

“You’ve been keeping count,” Cas said in his usual monotone, though some of his learned sarcasm was carefully placed in for good measure, and he made sure not to let his eyes fall from Dean’s. He made a point of not blinking in that way Dean finds unsettling and inhuman, “That’s kind of you. After all, I have such trouble remembering how dead I was. So, you have the count tallied up to days, how about hours? Minutes? I would love to know how long I’ve been alive to the second.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice as his eyes narrowed and Dean clearly didn’t take kindly to it.

“Now listen here, you son of a bitch,” Dean strode towards him, soul aflame in a raging fire of reds. But he was unable to finish his sentence; Castiel didn’t let him. Instead the angel spoke over him, drowning him out for the first time in years. Maybe even the first time ever.

“By the way, you’re welcome.” The angel’s voice maintained the same steady monotone it always had, but it managed to reverberate around the room as if he had bellowed. But as he continued, without adjusting his tone, his voice went back to normal, “For saving your ass. Again. Sorry, I haven’t bothered to keep count of how often it happens; you never say a word of gratitude anyway.”

It stung. And it didn’t just sting Dean. Cas saw the flare of pain and shame in Dean’s soul ripple through Sam’s in his peripheral vision as well. But unlike Winchester the elder, at least Sam allowed the hurt show through on his face. Castiel couldn’t help but feel sorry for Sam in that moment. Sam didn’t want to be there and the angel agreed that he probably didn’t need to bear witness to the outburst that was occurring between himself and the green-eyed rage beast before him. But Dean was too far gone in his anger at Castiel to allow Sam an escape past them without it incurring his wrath further. Which serves only to piss Castiel off even more, the argument was to _stupid_ to begin with. So petty and so…well…human.

Dean angrily stabbed Cas in the chest with his finger but the angel ignored it, letting his eyes rest solely on the hunter’s face.

“Saving my ass? Saving _my_ ass?” He yelled, quickly approaching the point of uncontrollable and the pure hot rage that filled his eyes had Cas’ own wrath quietly rising to meet him, “I am not the one who goes straight back to the fucking Empty when faced with a god damn angel blade! I am not the one who was at risk!”

“You were _unarmed_ , _prone_ , and _bleeding from the head_!” Castiel finally yelled. It was the first time he had truly yelled since his return but he couldn’t help it, he was just so angry at Dean’s stupidity. It wasn’t until he saw this physical discomfort that contorted and contracted Dean’s features for a few moments, and the way off of the side he could see Sam lift his empty hand to his forehead, a grimace obvious on his face, that he realised some of his true voice had come through with his human one. He watched the uncomfortable hot white and yellow ripples in Dean’s soul bitterly deciding that he was too angry to care. And that, for once, just once in all these years it actually felt good to let out some of the frustration Dean had a constant habit of building in him. To hell with it, he decided, he kept yelling; “Getting stabbed in that state with an Enochian blade would have ended you!” He ignored the increasingly pained expression Dean was trying so hard not to make in response to the ache inside his head, “Was I meant to just stand by and let him kill you?”

“Yes!” Dean screamed as he rushed forward, shoving Cas as hard as he could in his rage, “Yes, you were!”

To Sam it would have seemed like a split second passed where he saw the movement before processing the words, and then a familiar feeling of pity and sorrow as he felt his stomach drop.

For Dean the moment was somewhat longer. As soon as he felt his palms on the familiar tan fabric of the angel’s tranchcoat and his weight pushing forward, the sharp ringing of Cas’ true voice still in his ears, he knew that of all the terrible, horrible, awful choices he had made that night; shoving Castiel with all his strength may very well have been the worst of the lot.

A split second.

A long moment.

An eon.

They all mean both something and nothing to an Angel of the Lord and for Castiel the moment was neither a second not an eternity. But he saw, and heard, it all.

The moment started with the motel room, to Cas’ eyes, filled with the red of Dean’s raging soul screaming out at him incoherently like a banshee in agony. Sam’s soul had gone quiet, trying to stay out of the way of the wildfire Dean’s had become. And then the first word escaped Dean’s lips and movement began. Cas felt himself stumble backwards as Dean finished screaming his statement. But his soul wasn’t finished screaming and it continued, the agony Dean was feeling unable to be contained as the red deepened and darked to a deep bloody smoke and it wailed.

_At least I’d be dead!_  
_I’d never have to watch you die again!_  
_Your eyes were grey!_  
_I was empty…_  
_Was already dead…_  
_Your eyes…_  
_Never again, never want to see you dead again._  
_Your eyes were grey!_  
_If you die again…_  
_I can’t do it…_  
_Need you…_  
_Just let me die…_  
_God they were just so grey._

And then the moment of action ended and the moment of clarity set in; to Castiel’s eyes everything went black. Dean’s soul had gone passed rage into an agony-fueled despair, and Sam’s had started to swirl darkly in pity and sorrow. As Castiel’s back hit the ugly motel wallpaper and he bounced off the wall the bottles Sam held slipped from his fingers and hit the floor in quick succession. The three thuds dull against the silence with none of them seeming to notice the stray items.

The sorrow coming from Sam was starting to become so dark that Castiel couldn’t help but intrude on Sam’s thoughts, expecting to find the sadness being the result of Dean’s not-so-subtle, semi-suicidal ‘better me than you’ attitude towards things resulting in a probable concern of abandonment and issues surrounding it; but he was wrong. The sadness and pity were both for Dean. _‘Dammit, Dean. If only you hated yourself a little less…you’re so blind…’_

Sam always had been the more spatially aware of the two, but Cas would always disagree that he was generally smarter overall. Yes, he was academic but that didn’t mean that Dean was an idiot. And it seemed that the more intelligent side of Dean’s brain had finally decided to kick in as clarity hit him about what had just happened.

Castiel watched intently as the face in front of him changed from its state of uncontrollable fury and anguish to a state of realisation at what Dean had said and done. Green eyes darted frantically, not focusing on anything, as he replayed in his mind what had happened before he finally let them land on Castiel’s face, panic written openly on his features.

He knew, Cas realised,that he’d said more than he’d intended to; gotten more emotional than he’d wanted. And then he’d gotten physical and flat out stated ‘stand back and let me die, so long as you are safe’.

Dean Winchester doesn’t say that to people. Not to people who can hold their own. Not to people who are useful. Especially not Angels of the Lord.

No, Dean Winchester tells ‘damsels in distress’ to sit on the sideline and watch. He says it to people who can’t help in a fight, people who are useless and hold no tactical advantage. People who will get them all killed. And since Dean, as far as Castiel could tell, had long since forgotten that he was truly one of those ‘feathery assholes’ that can read minds and see souls he would no doubt think that Cas would take his meaning to be that he was being called useless dead weight on the battle field.

It was as Dead was mouthing the words ‘Oh shit,’ that Castiel decided to remind him. Enough was enough. He was sick of the way Dean tortured them both and he was done. He wouldn’t be delicate; they were well past the point of subtlety and Dean was so deeply submerged in his own pit of thick self-loathing that subtlety never broke through anyway. He would have to be forceful. He would have to be cruel. And it was painful to know that he would have to tear green-eyes winchester down to make a point.

A fleeting thought entered his mind as he allowed himself to slowly return to the more linear way humans felt time that he didn’t think Sam had ever seen his wings. Not in shadow of them in full plumage at least. Oh well, ‘there’s a first time for everything’ as the human saying goes.

 _‘Now Dean,’_ Cas thought, his anger dissipated and replaced with a hurting calm, _‘you like my eyes blue? I’ll show you how blue they can be…’_

Time finally caught up with him and he took a quick breath and blinked to make sure that he was feeling time in the way he should be before he began to fill himself up with grace. His gaze bore into Dean as he drew his grace in, much more than he needed, but he wouldn’t be able to make his point to full effect with only a faint glow. He was back at full power and Dean would know that Cas could crush him like a bug for the way he incessantly, if unconsciously, tormented him.

He filled himself until his eyes shone but didn’t stop. He crammed more power in to fill every crevice until long wispy strings of blue and white smoky grace leaked from his eyes in a way that the brothers had never seen from an angel before. He let the shadows of his full wingspan fill the wall behind him; the silhouette of his long flight feathers shuddering with power and left over wrath even in their shadowy state.

Dean’s eyes widened at the display before him and when Castiel took a determined step toward him he responded by taking two backwards. The angel didn’t like seeing the fear in Dean’s eyes and soul, and it was fear, so he honed in on Dean’s flesh. Focusing on his eyes, wide and afraid for his safety as they were, they were much easier to use as a grounding than the fear in Dean’s soul; so Cas cut it out. He had learned how to years ago, to focus on the physical and ignore the ethereal. He continued to focus as he stepped forward again, causing Dean to shuffle back, until all he could see was the hotel room as the Winchesters saw it and the physical reactions and flesh of the other inhabitants of the room. Physical response was what he needed to see, the soul would be too much and in too much pain once he was done.

Dean’s eyes darted between the wall and Castiel’s face, not knowing where to look. He was confused, so confused, by the fullness of Cas’ plumage and vastness of his power.

 _‘I’m sorry,’_ Cas kept the thought to himself, knowing that Dean thought he was still full of rage and angelic wrath. He raised a hand and Dean was lifted from the floor, an effortless flick of the wrist and he was flung across the room; hitting the opposite wall with a loud thud as Castiel pinned him there, his feet a few inches off the floor.

“Dean!” Finally Sam found his voice and took a few steps forward before looking to Castiel with awe in his eyes, “Cas…”

“Sit down, Sam,” When Castiel spoke his voice echoed in ways Sam couldn’t explain or understand. But it sounded oddly like multiple voices and bells, all at once and in harmony. Too much grace, Cas realised, but it didn’t seem to cause any discomfort to Sam or Dean when he spoke so he decided to just let it be, “I won’t hurt him.” He hoped. It took a few moments of thought but slowly Sam retreated to the small table in the kitchenette and sat down at it. Cas could see that stiffness in his shoulders where Sam was still ready to act at a moment’s notice if needed.

He turned his attention back to Dean and began to walk casually across the room, clouds of grace trailing behind him. Dead was struggling against his invisible bonds as expected and trying not to look at Castiel’s face despite being pinned facing him.

“When’d you get so juiced up, huh?” Dean spat, his frustration growing slightly but not returning to the state of anger he had been in.

“When did you forget that I’m an angel?”

“I’ve never forgotten!” The eyeroll from Castiel was so visible that even the grace billowing from his eyes seemed to make loops in his wake. When he made it to Dean’s personal space he didn’t quite stop, taking another step forward into that personal bubble, to the zone of closeness that Dean didn’t like him being in because it was ‘uncomfortable’. He let his wings fade back into the ether and lowered the amount of grace in his eyes, taking away the excess and the burning shine; turning them into a quiet icy glow of blue instead.

“Keeping the eyes?” Dean growled and when Cas spoke again the echoes and bells were gone; and so was the rage. His voice was quiet, a courtesy for Dean so that Sam wouldn’t hear from the kitchenette.

“You like them blue, right?” was all he said at first and Dean’s eyes narrowed darkly.

“Fuck off, Cas.” Cas sighed before trying again.

“My eyes were grey.” He said as Dean’s eyes narrowed further, “they were grey and they should have been blue. There was no grace left so they were grey. They were grey because I was dead and gone and all you were left with was Jimmy’s empty corpse.”

Dean thrashed against the wall futilely and was about to speak when Cas continued, “Before you tell me to ‘get out of your damn head’, I’m not in there. I haven’t been for years. But you do forget what I am and you forget what that means. I’m not in your head, Dean, because I don’t need to be.”

“The hell is _that_ supposed to mean?” Cas let some of the tension in his shoulders relax. Dean was listening. He was fighting was Cas was saying but at the very least he was listening to the words, so that was a start at least. He had to proceed carefully if Dean was going to understand. He didn’t want to risk shattering the man’s already fragile facade and have him not understand.

“Do you remember, years ago, I told you that I can feel a soul’s longing for me?” He saw Dean tense but the elder Winchester nodded, “There’s more to it than that. Souls communicate, talk, scream, channel prayer, convey emotion. They do everything. They especially do everything when a human represses or suppresses doing something outwardly. Like, for example, displaying emotion or conveying feeling.”

He saw Dean swallow hard as the point started to make it’s way in and hit home.

“I know everything, Dean.”

“You don’t know shit. Now let me down or so help me I will kick your angelic ass.” Sighing Castiel moved forward so that his face was beside Dean’s, their cheeks almost touching and spoke in a whisper.

“I won’t be delicate Dean, but I really do. I know you still have nightmares of Hell and purgatory. But that your worst recurring nightmare is still where you relive the moment where Sam died in your arms before you made the deal that sent you to Hell in the first place.  
Sometimes you have nightmares of torturing at the rack, other times you fantasise about it. You enjoy it, sometimes immensely. Every time you have a pleasurable dream about it and make it to completion you hate yourself more. You always have burbon for breakfast on those days. I don’t blame you, you soul sounds quite strangled in those times. It’s quite…unpleasant.”

He was being cruel and he knew it. But he kept going.

“You still hate yourself for leaving me in purgatory even though I chose to stay. Purgatory is why you have a complex about being clean. You try hard to conceal it, make it look like you don’t care when you’re covered in the blood of monsters. But sometimes your soul screams at the sight of blood when there’s too much or when you see a slightly undercooked burger. You make yourself eat it anyway because you’re Dean Winchester and you can’t be weak, your father won’t let you. Even now your soul is afraid of his name.’

Dean had stopped all protest. He was just listening and taking it all in.

“Will we talk about the leviathans? A lot of people made a lot of dick jokes and you and your soul spent a lot of time uncomfortable and afraid during that period. You don’t need to say why, I already know. I mean for all their joking about you being ‘obsessed with Dick’ at the time, the truth is that you do actually like dick. To put it indelicately. Don’t you dean? And I don’t mean a little bit, I mean you really like dick. You would sneak out for it often just dripping of fear and shame. And on that topic, let’s talk about Crowley.”

He couldn’t help the way he spat Crowley’s name and as soon as he’d uttered it Dean turned to him, shaking with eyes wide and fearful. He shook his head.

“No!” His voice was strong and assertive despite the unintended break in it, “You don’t know about that. You can’t know about that!” Cas kept his gaze steady and calm.

“Dean, I know everything. Granted, not from at the time. You were a demon so your soul wasn’t really in play. But your soul and body have had a lot of fun with your memories from your time with him. And besides, Crowley wouldn’t shut up about it to me. Of course I know.”

Dean looked down and away, full of shame, “It wasn’t…I never…”

“You don’t need to explain yourself or what happened or what it meant or didn’t mean, Dean. And it wasn’t shameful; I am not trying to shame you.

Dean’s expression when he turned back to him was full of confusion, so Cas elaborated.

“I’m showing you that you cannot hide from me, Dean Winchester. I know _everything_.”

“You can’t know everything…” Dean’s voice was shaking and full of pleading desperation. This was the point of no return, either Cas could walk away now and let him keep the one secret that could ruin everything or he could lay it all bare and probably ruin everything anyway. The angel decided that he had come too far to back out now, that he would need to tear away that last shred of hope that he could hear in Dean’s voice. And he suddenly understood what it felt like to truly hate yourself.

The angel rached up and gently took hold of the side of Dean’s head, resting their cheeks together on the other side so Dean couldn’t turn away from what he was saying.

“I know…” He stopped and took a deep breath, steeling himself, “I know you yearn for me and ache for me in a way you never did for Crowley or any of your one night stands,” Dean froze and his shuddering breath stopped, “It was when you first saw my wings, your soul wanted to fling itself at me. But really you didn’t file me away as a true vice until purgatory. Sure you’d fantasised about me many times before then; but purgatory was when you realised. It was when you realised how deeply and how desperately you have fallen and you finally accepted that it just was. After that you started looking at me with a hunger almost as ravenous as the monsters. You’d sneak off the masturbate about me a lot in purgatory. Benny never noticed. I did. Every time. Your soul would beg me to come and find you, to join you. Or it would cry out and whine, moaning your pleasure.”

Dean was shaking again, and breathing thankfully, but Cas could also feel a wetness between them. Dean was crying. He’d been found out and laid bare, and he couldn’t even run. He had no escape.

“These days it’s easier for you. You know how you feel, but you like to think you can hide it. But every morning, every night, I feel it and I hear it. Your soul begging and moaning for me, calling to me and filling every inch of my awareness with only the feeling of your yearning. Multiple times a day, every day, I can hear you moaning my name as you come, no matter where on this earth I am. Even when you don’t make a physical sound. It even penetrated my dreams in the fucking Empty, filled with sorrow as you came, because your love for me is so wrong.”

Finally, feeling nothing but hatred for himself, he let Dean’s face go and stepped back before gently lowing the broken man to the floor. Dean let his knees buckle beneath him and felt for the wall; allowing himself to crumple and sit on the floor, tears silently running down his face when he finally looked up at the angel. His features were open, emotion freely displayed. But Castiel didn’t like what he saw. Dean was in pain, hurting deeply, and Castiel had been the one to do it.

“I hope that in time you can forgive what I’ve done to you tonight, Dean.” He turned to the door, letting the last of the grace smolder fall from his eyes and walked out into the night. As he closed the door he could hear the screech of the kitchenette chair on the linoleum floor as Sam got up and the younger hunter’s hurried cried for him to wait. But Castiel ignored him. Spreading his wings and flying off as soon as he’d heard the door click closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies in advance for any misspellings or weird grammar; I've been writing this in spare moments here and there, not in blocks and it hasn't been beta-read. 
> 
> This is my first fanfic that I've uploaded in a very long time and my first here on A03! I hope that you enjoy it as it builds and don't hate my head canons too much. The first of which, you may have noted; is that when angels are taken to The Empty they are restored to a point of health, similar to what is generally assumed happens when humans go to heaven. You don't see sick people in heaven, why would you see broken angels in The Empty?


	2. Beers and Bottletops

“Wait! Cas, wait!” Sam scrambled up from his place at the table having watched…whatever the hell happened before Cas had decided to walk out. He dashed past Dean, ignoring him for the moment since he was clearly not going anywhere, and made it to the door. Reefing it open he ran out into the empty car park looking around desperately for any sign of his friend.

“Cas!” He kept running, repeatedly calling Cas’ name until he made it out of the car park and stood in the main road looking down it in both directions.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Sam brought his hands up to grasp in his hair. He was worried. He hadn’t been able to hear was Castiel had been saying to Dean but the fear on his brother’s face had spoken volumes. The idea of Dean being so afraid of his best friend was terrifying on its own, so the thought of an angel, especially Cas, feeling that level of rage, on the loose with no outlet for it was worse. What if something happened? What if another hunter ended up taking up the hunt with Cas as the target? And since when had Cas been so powerful? When did he get his wings back?

Wings.

Sam rolled his eyes at his own idiocy and turned to run back to the motel room. Of course Cas had flown off, he’d have been stupid not to. It also meant that the angel count be anywhere from Kentucky to Kilimanjaro by now. Or Mars. Or some other god forsaken galaxy on the other side of creation that Sam didn’t even know existed.

He took out his phone and dialled Cas’ number as he stepped over the threshold and back into the room, closing the door behind him. It started ringing, which he felt was a good sign. It meant that Cas was still in the country at least, but then;

_‘You have reached my voice mail. Make your voice a mail.’_

Making the split second decision to leave a message he started talking, not even bothering to try and keep the concern and panic out of his voice.

“Cas, hey it’s Sam. Umm…Look, I don’t know what the hell has just happened here, but you’re gone. Obviously. And Dean…” He trailed off and finally looked to where his brother was still sitting on the floor; having pulled his knees in to curl up and rest his forehead on his kneecaps. His knuckles were white from where his fists clenched unforgivingly in his own hair at the back of his skull, Sam cleared his throat and kept talking, “Anyway, I just wanna know you’re alright, okay? Just call or text or something yeah? Just when you can. Please?”

He hung up and looked towards Dean, who hadn’t moved, and put his phone back in his packet. Slowly he moved to his brother’s side and sat down on the floor beside him, hands falling between his knees. He watched his older brother gently for a few moments before speaking.

“I don’t know what he said, Dean, but I’m sure you guys’ll be fine.”

A scoff came from the curled up form of his brother and Sam watched him thoughtfully.

“It’s not fine.” Dean’s voice was quiet and the amount of emotion in it surprised Sam as Dean continued, “Apparently things haven’t been fine for a while. I’m a piece of shit.”

Sam was confused; the conversation he thought he had witnessed didn’t have Dean placed in the wrong, “Uh, I’m not sure we’re having the same conversation here.”

With a sigh Dean let go of his head, pulling it back to rest against the wall and let his legs fall. It was time to be honest. Cas knew everything anyway so why shouldn’t Sam shouldn’t know the truth about his brother? He couldn’t bring himself to look at him as he spoke though.

“Do you ever forget that Cas isn’t human?” Sam nodded and realising that they would need beer for this conversation rose from the floor and went to retrieve a fresh six-pack from the kitchenette.

“I do forget,” He said when he returned to his place on the floor and started opening the box of bottles, “I forget all the time. I forget that he isn’t just a human with superpowers and a few quirks; especially since Metatron and the fall. He’s been so human since then without all of his grace.” He held out one of the liberated bottles to Dean.

“Apparently not as ‘human-like’ as I kept thinking,” Dean took the bottle, opened it and took a long draw of the liquid inside, “Apparently my soul can’t keep itself in check.”

“And that makes you a piece of shit?” Sam raised his eyebrows skeptically, knowing that Cas would never judge either of them for something they had no control over.

Dean started picking at the label of his beer in the way that Sam knew meant he was afraid of Sam’s reaction to what he was about to say.

“…It does when I have private-time fantasies of our angel friend and my soul practically forces him to witness a play by play porno and begs him to come take part…” He didn’t take his eyes off the beer’s label but didn’t miss the way Sam sat up a bit straighter, a tightness coming to his shoulders.

“Oh…” The taller brother said carefully, “You don’t have to tell me this if you don’t want to, Dean.”

“May as well,” Dean sighed and ripped off the remainder of the label before angrily scrunching it into a ball and throwing it at nothing, “Cas obviously knows so there’s no point hiding it.”

“Huh…” Sam was watching him intently, “You can’t help how your soul behaves, Dean.”

“But I can damn well remember he’s a fucking angel who can read my damn mind,” Dean snapped, “I can…I should be able to control myself enough to remember that and keep it in my soul-pants.”

There were a few more moments of silence where Sam thought about how to most diplomatically ask the necessary next question.

“So…it is a general attraction to Cas, physically?” He kept his tone as gently as possible and feigned cluelessness as best he could. He knew how big a deal that Dean was talking about it at all, he didn’t want to make things worse or stop him talking about it again, “Or do you think you might be in love with him or something?”

The classic ‘I can’t fucking believe this’ look made it to Dean’s face and he shook his head before downing the remaining half of his beer in one go. He didn’t answer so Sam sighed and took another sip of his own drink.

The silence continued, not uncomfortably, and the beers disappeared as the hours passed. Sam, of course, knew the answer to his question. He knew his brother too well, but he also knew that until he actually said it nothing would happen and this fight between Dean and Cas might be permanent.

Cas was, after all said and done, an eternal being. It wasn’t as if he lacked patience. Sam was starting to try and formulate a plan when finally Dean spoke again.

“It hurts,” Dean was rubbing his forehead when Sam looked to him quietly, “When I see him I just ache everywhere and it takes everything I have not to just…I dunno…” He trailed off with a sigh and let his head fall back against the wall once more. Sam could see that his eyes looked wet again.

“And when he’s not there?” Sam prompted and the pained expression on Dean’s face almost made him regret it.

“God it’s worse when he’s not.” Dean curled back up into a ball, hiding his face in his knees, but kept talking, “because then I worry and I miss him, and it’s just harder. I go through all this crap of wanting to call him to hear his voice because it sucks not having him around but then when I call just to talk he worries that I’m hiding things and after I hang up it just hurts more. And then there’s the way that he looks at me and gets in my space talks to me and God, just the way he says my name just _does things_ to me, Sam. I’m so god damned messed up. It just…just _hurts_. All the time.”

Sam took pity on him then, moving closer to his brother and wrapping his arms around him, embracing him tightly.

“That’s not messed up, Dean,” He said gently, “That’s just what love feels like when you try to keep it away.”

“How the hell are you so okay with all this?” Dean sighed, letting his brother hug him; he wouldn’t admit it but it felt good to finally let everything out, “Dad would…he’d never forgive me and he’d have hunted Cas down and mounted his wings.”

Sam had to chuckle at that, “Dean, if anyone isn’t like Dad in this family, it’s me. And besides, I would have _loved_ to see Dad try and hunt Cas. Cas could kick Dad’s ass without a second thought.”

Dean smiled and nodded, Sam was right. John Winchester was many things and a badass was one of those things. But an angel hunter he wasn’t, and he had nothing on Castiel, Angel of the Lord.

“Sammy,” Dean’s voice had turned quiet, “do you…do you mind at all?”

“Nah man,” Sam smiled into his brother’s hair, “I don’t mind at all. I’m just glad you’re finally telling me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Apologies that this chapter is a little short (apologies again for the next one which is also a little short); and for any weirdness grammatically and any spelling mistakes I've missed. As I mentioned in the previous author notes, this work hasn't been beta-read at all so some things may slip through.
> 
> Also, as a side note 'keep it in my soul pants' is not a phrase I ever expected to write, but I'm so glad I have.


	3. Forgive Me Father, I know Not What I Do

Castiel had flown to California. To an old Catholic church called Saint Michael’s. He couldn’t help but sigh and roll his eyes as he crossed the darkened road towards the sacred building.

It wasn’t that he particularly disliked the church, or any church for that matter, it was just pointless and the irony of it all just didn’t sit well with him and seemed distasteful. Even if he did understand it.

He could feel the push of the warding against him as he made his way up the stone stone steps, but wasn’t pushed away. He had permission to be there after all, and he pushed open the unlocked door and walked into the entryway without a second thought.

It was a major church, the overseeing preacher was a bishop, but the bishop wouldn’t be in the church proper at this time; he would be in the rectory with the majority of the other clergymen. Only one member of the clergy was ever in the church itself at this time of night; and he technically wasn’t a man of the cloth at all. Though Cas had to admit that of all the ways he had chosen to hide himself throughout history, this was likely the most effective. When it came to church, neither angels nor demons were ever in attendance.

“Castiel! To what do I owe the pleasure of your uncharacteristically morose expression?”

Cas wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to seeing Gabriel, archangel and pagan god of mischief and sin casually standing around in priestly garb. Especially knowing that preaching morality and self restraint to the congregation a few times a week were a part of his required duties within the church. As it was that late evening Gabriel was cleaning, by hand, the pews and aisles. Castiel had asked him before why he cleaned by hand and the response had been surprisingly reasonable, if he didn’t his cover would be blown.

Castiel lowered himself into one of the pews and something about the way he was carrying himself caused the usual gleeful smile on Gabriel’s face disappear.

“Oh…” Gabriel moved towards his brother and sat beside him, “that good is it?”

“I’ve done a terrible thing, Gabriel.”

“We’ve all done terrible things, Castiel.” The archangel said flippantly, waving it off with a flick of his hand, relaxing into the pew, “there is a reason our father loves us the least of his creations.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “May I stay a while? I fear I may not be welcome at the bunker for some time.”

Gabriel’s golden eyes become sympathetic. He could see the guilt and the pain in Castiel’s expression and the way he was holding himself. He realised the gravity of the situation leading to his brother’s arrival and let out a long sigh,

“Oh, Cas; what have you done?”

“I used his soul against him to prove a point.”

Gabriel scoffed, almost laughing in his face.

“You you didn’t, you aren’t that big of a dick.”

Rolling his eyes, Castiel placed his hand to Gabriel’s forehead and showed him. The evening’s events filled the archangel’s mind and memory and in a split second he knew all that had happened, sparing the younger angel the need to explain it. Gabriel stared at him, his expression a mix of hurt and horror.

“Holy crap, it’s Tuesday…”

“What?”

“Nothing…” Gabriel shook off his shock at his brother’s behaviour and cleared his throat. He didn’t try and console the seraph beside him; it was angel nature to lord it over humans. They couldn’t help but push it and find a certain sick pleasure in forcing humans down or by showing them their inferiority.

It was why everything always went wrong between their species. Why Lucy had rebelled and refused to love the apes in the first place. Why Chuck had left, disappointed in his angels, not that Castiel or the other seraphs knew that. It was why relations between humans and angels had been limited, and then forbidden by the archangels; with even friendships being frowned upon in the end.

Eventually the angels always wanted to force down their humans for either entertainment or servitude. It was just the way it had always been. Even Gabriel had often done it, even during his time on earth through his role as a trickster, manipulating humans for entertainment. But with how much he knew Castiel had always cared for humanity, he didn’t think his little brother could ever stomp on them like insects. Especially not the Winchesters. Dean least of all.

“Cas…you have to fix this.” Gabriel was not a creature made for apologies. He was a strange creation made of grandeur and willful force; he made others beg forgiveness, he didn’t beg forgiveness. Throughout his existence he had made approximately three sincere apologies, and two of them he was mostly sure had gone unheard. One of them had been to a dead body, the second had been pre-recorded to the end of Casa Erotica with the express hope that it would never be seen. He hadn’t been able to bear making it in person.

But one thing he knew for sure from being so bad at apologising was when an apology was decidedly needed; and when it needed to be damned good.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” Cas admitted, letting his eyes fall to the large statue of a crucified Jesus near the podium, “I only ever make things so much worse for Dean, at this point I feel like disappearing from his life completely would be the best course of action and the far more merciful gift I could give him.

“Firstly, that’s bullshit,” Gabriel said,rolling his eyes, “You’re trying to convince yourself of that so you can disappear without guilt when we both know it would kill little Deano to be without the angel on his shoulder.”

“Mmm…”

“Secondly, you ripped out his most personal self and threw his most vulnerable pieces in his face. He deserves the opportunity to do the same; you know damn well what you need to do.”

Castiel pulled his gaze away from the statue and looked to his brother in confusion,

“You’re talking about expiation?” When Gabriel nodded Castiel almost laughed at him, “It can’t be done. Dean is human, he’d be blinded in the attempt, or killed if I wasn’t stopped in time.”

“Pleeeease, Cas-ti-el,” Gabriel grinned his classic trickster grin and chuckled at his little brother’s naivete, “ _of course_ it can be done! Dad wasn’t the one that outlawed human angel relationships, was he? The archangels were! Before that we did _all kinds_ of things to enable humans to experience us,” he outright laughed at the look of astonishment on Castiel’s face, “honestly, little brother, I know you were young back then, but where do you think they got all their lore? Do you think we _told_ them?”

Castiel looked thoughtful for a long time. It wasn’t something he had ever considered or questioned, but he realised then that he should have, of course he should have. Angels were very private about their ways and rituals, humans had nothing in their lore on those things; why did they have so much lore about other aspects of angels? It made sense.

“How do I make it possible? Do I need his permission?”

“You should _probably_ get Deano’s consent, yeah; considering you have to alter his brain and senses,” the archangel chuckled again, “But I can show you. We’ll practice ‘til you feel ready to go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, and again not beta-read. Thank you for reading, I hope you're enjoying things so far. The next chapter is quite a bit longer, and we're still quite plot heavy, but I hope you're enjoying it all the same.


	4. Sometimes You Have to Change a Few Frequencies if You Want to Break Eggs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas shows up at the bunker a couple of weeks after his major fight with Dean. He seems nervous, on edge and evasive. He wants to atone for his mistakes but Dean has no idea what he's in for.

Two and a half weeks passed without Dean trying to reach out to Castiel. He wanted to, God he wanted to, but he didn’t know how to or what to say.

Sending a text seemed to impersonal but he could manage his words better than calling. But calling would be an awkward mess. Dean had never been good with his words, especially on the phone, and Cas was even worse. And that was if the angel even answered. Of course, prayer was on the table again, but given how the whole situation had started it just seemed like a bad idea. Too familiar. Too personal. Too intimate. And that was before he even took into account what his soul might do once that channel was open. No, prayer would be asking for disaster.

So he opted to stay silent. It wasn’t the best idea, or the healthiest, but he hoped it would at least be the least damaging to what was probably an already ruined partnership.

Sam had sat him down for a deep and meaningful about it all, trying to get him to open up about it over a beer in the war room after dinner one night in that overly endearing way that served only to make Dean want to stab his darling little brother through the eyes; when they heard the loud creak of metal on metal of the door above them.

The brothers looked up, hopeful, and relief spread over them both when Castiel walked in. Dean didn’t stand, and worked hard to keep his face neutral and his feelings pushed far down. Bur Sam got to his feet brightly and pulled the angel into a kind embrace once he had descended the stairs.

“Cas!” The taller Winchester exclaimed, “Thank god you’re okay! We’ve been worried.”

“I assure you, I’m fine.” Cas smiled before turning to Dean, “May we talk privately?”

Dean nervously tapped his fingers against the empty beer bottle he held as he felt his heart begin to race. He considered saying no. Seriously considered it. Wanted to say it. In fact, he wanted to very pointedly and emphatically tell the feathery pain in the arse to fuck off before running up the stairwell and off into the surrounding forest.

Running _off_ mind you. Definitely _not_ running away.

But instead he nodded and stood, speaking as neutrally and calmly as he could, “Sure thing man, want a beer?”

Castiel was quiet a moment, seemingly giving the simple question as much consideration as Dean had to the question of talking. Finally he gently shook his head.

“No, not beer.” He said, “Whiskey.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, _‘Oh great,’_ he thought, _‘it’s that kind of conversation.’_

“Whiskey it is!” He smiled, “I have a few bottles in my room.”

“I know.”

“I know you do.”

“Well,” Sam cleared his throat awkwardly as the tense moment dragged on a bit too long, “where we _don’t_ have whiskey is _anywhere_ else in the bunker. Also we’re out of fun things like food, so I’m going to do a supply run. Yep. Yep, I’m gonna do that.” He leaned forward quickly and snatched the impala keys off the map table before walking off briskly towards the garage, calling over his shoulder that he’d bring them back something nice.

Dean sighed once Sam was out of earshot and shook his head slightly before starting to walk in the direction of the dormitory wing,

“Let’s get you that drink,” he kept his tone casual as if he wasn’t hurting, but he knew that Cas could probably see and feel it all anyway. He didn’t know why he was bothering to try and hide it really, other than the fact that he always had.

When they reached Dean’s room without a word having passed between them, the hunter opened the door and waved Castiel in first, figuring that there was no reason why he couldn’t be a gentleman on a physical level at least. Shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans he made to follow the angel into the room, but froze when Castiel finally spoke. He’d heard a lot of emotions in Cas’ voice over the years but he’d never heard a tremor of nervousness in his words the way he did when he heard the angel speak then.

“Can you close the door, please?”

Dean complied, gently pulling the door closed behind him. He was quickly leaving the realm of sulky and embarrassed and heading towards curious and concerned. The outburst from Cas a couple of weeks earlier? He deserved that, had that coming. But the way Cas was behaving now was weird and Dean didn’t like it. The angel should have been demanding apologies or something, been showing wrath or some kind of anger at least. But the way he was behaving; nervous, asking for alcohol - whiskey nonetheless, showing emotion, caring about privacy…The hunter was sure something had happened to him.

He stepped away from the closed door towards Castiel, a concerned look on his face.

“Cas? Buddy, what’s going on?”

Castiel watched him intensely for a moment before shifting uncomfortably,

“I’ve never really spoken to you or Sam about angelic culture or social conventions.” He said it simply, but it didn’t really explain anything and when Dean was just starting to show confusion he continued his explanation, “and I’m in a position now, because of…because of what transpired, where I now have to make the decision to do the right thing in the only way I know how, or to walk away from you entirely. And neither of those options are ones that I am comfortable with.”

“I don’t think I follow…” Dean didn’t understand. He really really didn’t. It sounded like Cas was talking about leaving forever, but he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. And was there some weird angel thing he was talking about?

“I need you to make a choice, Dean,” Castiel said gently, “to either trust me completely, or to tell me to leave.”

“Dammit, Cas, if you don’t know that I trust you by now -”

“Dean!” They both sounded exasperated but when Cas cut him off Dean knew it must be important and sighed.

“Fine, I trust you Cas,” He said, “and I don’t want you to leave; especially not indefinitely.”

Castiel nodded as he moved closer to the hunter and Dean noticed that he was rubbing his hands together nervously.

“Are you sure, Dean?” The angel asked uncertainly, “To give what I need to, I need to permanently change you. It won’t hurt you, it may even give you an advantage as a hunter. But it will be uncomfortable. Uncomfortable, not painful.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed skeptically. Cas obviously didn’t like the idea overall, but seemed confident that whatever he was going to do wasn’t actually going to hurt him at all. And the shorter man seemed pretty damn set on either doing this thing or leaving, possibly forever because of some shitty angelic custom Dean didn’t understand.

“…Okay.” The affirmation was out before Dean was even really sure he wanted to agree. But in the end he just didn’t want Cas to leave. Not again. He just wanted their friendship back. He wanted an opportunity to build himself up enough to apologise. That wasn’t something that he could do if Cas was gone.

“You’re sure?” Cas moved into his space and Dean nodded his confirmation,

“Yeah just…you can’t leave me alright?” He meant to sound cocky and nonchalant, his usual Winchester self, but instead his words came out quietly and filled with pleading.

“Believe me, Dean,” Castiel reached out to take hold of Dean’s wrist before he started to lead him further into the room, “the last thing I ever want to do is leave you. You should sit.” He gestured to the edge of the bed and Dean sat obediently as Cas moved again; this time the angel headed to the shelf where Dean housed his personal whiskey collection. The angel continued to talk candidly as he selected a bottle of Dean’s clear favourite, with only about a quarter left, and something unopened for himself. “I sincerely dread the day you will eventually perish, Dean. I know how Heaven is supposed to work, and knowing what I know about you I know that your Heaven should include me. At the very least as a visitor.”

Castiel walked back over towards Dean and passed him his whiskey bottle before moving in front of him and kneeling on the floor before him, “And yet,” the angel continued, “I can’t visit you in your eventual eternal home. I can’t be there in any way, whether or not it is what you want or are entitled to.”

Dean really didn’t want to admit that it was something he had thought about before. He had already decided that he didn’t want to go to Heaven, but hadn’t quite figured out how to get around it all yet. To avoid talking he opened the bottle in his hands and drank.

“So, what are you going to do to me?”

Cas looked nervous again and chose to open his own bottle and take a long drink before answering.

“It’s complicated to explain the details, but I will need to touch your chest and head. Is that okay?”

Nodding, Dean took another swig before pulling the old band shirt up over his head. He was starting to understand why Cas was acting so nervously and standoffish. He would be too at the idea of throwing some complex angel mojo on someone when it required skin-to-skin touch and knowing damn well that person moaned through their bones at the mere sight of him. Or even the thought of the sight of him.

He felt the angel’s cool, deft fingers run over his anti-possession tattoo before his hand flattened, palm over the hunter’s heart. Long moments of silence passed where he felt nothing; and then, almost at a distance yet still within him, there was a quiet hum. A change in vibration. Then a pulse. And another. And another. Almost a beat within him that resonated through his body and beyond it. As it steadied Cas straitened himself, hand still on Dean’s chest, but closing the space between them.

With care he reached up with his spare hand to cup Dean’s face, not dissimilarly to how he had those few short yet eternal weeks before. Gentle waves of grace spread from Cas’ fingertips into Dean’s skull and the human couldn’t help but let out a small moan as his eyes rolled blissfully when the second wave seeped into his brain like some kind of drug.

“I thought…” Dean panted, starting to squirm where he sat, “That you said it’d be uncomfortable…”

“We aren’t at the uncomfortable part yet.” Cas sounded apprehensive as he sent another wave to Dean’s brain. The angel couldn’t deny that the pleased noises squeezing their way out of Dean, despite how he tried to hold them back, were enticing in a way that made him want more. But he had to move on to the lesser enjoyable parts of Dean’s brain for tweaking.

“Dammit Cas,” Dean struggled without any real effort, feeling like a bug needing to crawl out of his own skin, with the added bodily confusion of being rock hard between the legs from the pleasure centre of his brain being lit up like a christmas tree, “What are you doing to me? You’re destroying me.”

“Am I?” Castiel asked, pulling Dean’s face forward to look at him, the hunter was glistening with a sheen of sweat as he panted and strained against the turmoil going on within him, “Or am I rebuilding you, again?”

Dean couldn’t say anything. All he could feel were changing vibrations and thunderous beating through his brain, body, and soul.”

“Dean, now comes the uncomfortable bit,” Cas said calmly and Dean nodded against his hand frantically, he shifted and bit his lip in a way that did not go unnoticed by the angel but the hunter probably had no idea it had happened given the state he was in, “I need you to promise not to look away and to remember to breathe. Can you do that, Dean, for me?”

“Sure, Cas.”

“Dean, Promise me.” It seemed important and Dean was already willing, moldable putty in Castiel’s vibrating touch, so if the angel needed him to promise, he’d promise.

“I promise to keep breathing for you, Cas.”

“Good, Dean,” Grace slowly started to fill Castiel’s eyes, “And don’t look away, Dean. Don’t look away.”

Looking away wouldn’t have been an option even if he’d wanted to. There was a split second where the barely still functional part of Dean’s brain registered _‘why are Cas’ eyes silver?’_ before he could see nothing and everything all at once.

He saw himself in every moment of his life so far, and his soul, and an unintelligible cacophony of possibilities that were his future and the universe.

He saw the universe in the beginning and in that moment and grew scared. In his fear his mind called for Cas and their entire history together flashed before him.

And for the first time he saw Castiel, angel of the lord in all his fury, extract him from Hell. He saw himself as he appeared then and how Cas must have seen him in those moments. A twisted soul of inkish black filled with torment and pain but with a glowing golden spark inside. A firy center of soul that could not, would not be expunged.

He saw everything and yet everything was black. He felt fear and cold but the memory of Hell’s flames threatened to consume him as much as the ice of space’s vacuum.

‘Breathe’ He felt submerged and all he could feel in the nothing was water, but the voice he heard was his own, ‘you promised you’d breathe. You promised you would, for him. You can’t let him down again.’

He took a gasping breath and he could still see everything and nothing.

Heaven. Angels. A life that was fictional. Angel children didn’t exist, did they? He’d never seen one. All of Heaven’s angels were adults. Chuck just made them that way, right?

But there was something about that blue…

“What’s wrong, Cassie?” He was sure he recognised those caramel eyes too…that angel was older; mid teens?

“Mike and Lucy are picking on the humans again.”

“They always do that, they’re jerks.”

“I told them to stop and they said they’d throw me off The Bound.”

The scrawny teen-Gabriel stopped whatever he had been doing and turned to the small Castiel with glowing amber wrath in his eyes, “They wouldn’t dare! You’re one of Dad’s special! Your grace is modeled off mine, they’re just jealous. Don’t listen to them.”

“I don’t understand what that means.”

“Dad changed my grace to give me free will like the humans. You have will too, but not as free as mine. We have real human emotion and can have real connections and love and friendships. Baby Samandriel too. It’s why Dad favours us and why Mike and Lucy hate us.”

The scene started to dissipate as a _very_ uncomfortable feeling came to Dean’s brain. It felt itchy and bordered on painful. He felt dizzy and almost like he would pass out. But passing out would be bad, that would be looking away and he wasn’t to look away.

But he felt a tug on his mind, pulling him back, so he followed it. It took him back through the cosmos and through the death and birth of stars, and back to where he sat in his room in the bunker.

He could feel that he was panting and sweating, but he didn’t care. Was he trembling? Maybe. He was too out of it to really tell. And Cas’ eyes. He couldn’t stop staring at Cas’ eyes. They were still full sockets of shining silver - since when could he do that anyway? - for a few moments before gradually the angel returned them to their usual grace-filled blue, and then removed the grace from them entirely. After which he removed his shaking hands, wet from Dean’s sweat, from the hunter’s body.

“It’s done,” the angel said simply, “We should take a break before the next stage.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Per usual, not beta read and my sincere apologies for any mistakes and weirdness associated with that. This is a long and delicious chapter! I hope you enjoyed it! It's the last chapter I'll be uploading tonight on account of it just turning past midnight and chapter 5 is typed up yet, only handwritten. Hopefully tomorrow! Poor Dean, what a state he's in...and all for what? What did Cas even do to him? ;)


	5. Take My Axe, Woodcutter, Please Cut Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Direct follow-on from chapter four.

Next stage? Dean swallowed hard, unsure of how he even felt at that point. He’d been put through the wringer, that was obvious; his body was shivering as if he was cold but he really felt like his skin was hot and tingling. And he ached in a strange suspended place between pleasure and pain. It was as if he had been in the worst beat down of his life while having the best sex he could imagine. Uncompleted through, and when he shifted on the bed to reach for the shirt he’d placed aside he struggled not to groan at the confined discomfort inside his jeans.

He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, trying the ground himself and desperately willing his body to calm down. He couldn’t even tell if it was pleasure or pain he was feeling as his hardness shifted and moved. The sensations in his body were too confused; too chaotic. The fleeting thought came to him that, in that moment, Cas could stab him and completely run him through, and all it would achieve would be for him to die full of blissful pleasure, coming as he bled out. There would be worse ways to go.

He let out a shuddering breath, trying to force his body to calm. To come back from whatever messed up angelic high Cas had put it into.

“Dean,” Dean pulled his eyes open slowly and turned to where Cas was cautiously looking at him, “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, Cas.” Dean’s voice came out as dry and strained, the way it did after a lot of yelling and screaming. Had be been crying out during…whatever it was? He didn’t remember, “Just need a minute.”

“Take your time,” Cas awkwardly took another drink from his own whiskey bottle and Dean noticed it was just about half gone.

“You said there’s a next stage?” He tried to sound light-hearted but he didn’t know if he could handle another round. When Cas nodded, refusing to meet his gaze, the hunter grew concerned. “Tell me it won’t be as rough as this, yeah?”

“Not for you.” Cas tilted his head pointedly and took another swig before sighing and straightening himself up.

“What do you mean?” Dean was clearly confused but Cas wouldn’t look at him. The angel only raised a hand a little to the side at shoulder height and ignored the question.

“Focus here and tell me if your eyes itch or hurt.” Dean glanced, frustrated that he was being ignored.

“What? No, Cas my eyes are fine. What did you mean?”

Castiel remained silent for a few moments before asking again, “How about now? When you focus here do your eyes itch or hurt? Even a small amount?”

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean was starting to get angry again, for having things kept from him and for whatever stupid game Cas was making him play; but when he looked to where the angel had positioned his hand he could see strange rippling shadows about a foot behind.

He stared.

“Dean, you need to tell me if your eyes itch or hurt. If they do I need to stop.”

“No…” Dean was speaking softly again, “No they’re fine. I…I shouldn’t have yelled.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow, surprised by the semi-apology. Dean never apologised for anything and it sounded strange, “It’s fine, you’re in a heightened state so it’s expected you might feel a bit chaotic. You’re sure there’s no discomfort?”

“No, none.” Finally the hunter’s eyes moved to Castiel’s face but the angel was more nervous than ever, “Cas, what are you doing?”

No answer came, but the room filled with angelic light. Expecting the painful screeching that usually accompanied such manifestations of angelic power, Dean started to raise his hands to his ears.

But the discomfort didn’t come and the static that usually filled his head was missing. The screech was absent, instead what he could hear was a harmonic, beautiful chorus that he couldn’t quite describe. He could hear so much as the light engulfed him. Bells, birds, trumpets, angel song.

His green eyes widened and he suddenly wondered what the full host had sounded like in chorus back in the beginning, when Heaven really was full of love. Before Chuck had made humans and humans and ruined everything.

The choir must have sounded so beautiful, he realised, magnificent, powerful and resplendent.

The chorus faded and so did the light. At first the fact that it had all washed over him, so warm and pleasant, left him shocked. He was still intact and Dean was beside himself in disbelief; but then he registered what he was actually looking at before him in the once again dull bedroom.

His brain caught up that Castiel had done something immense.

The seraph continued kneeling before him, looking not-quite at him and entirely ill-at-ease. His gaze was focused somewhere around Dean’s shoulder height and his posture was stiff and apprehensive. For once in his life, Dean knew why.

Castiel had brought forth his wings that that strange other ephemeral plane where they somehow usually lived. They were at rest, sitting comfortable and tucked in just a little to make sure their span didn’t take up the entire room or knock anything other. His feathers were dark, inky and jet black. They glistened so brightly that Dean couldn’t help but wonder if they would feel wet to the touch.

Dean was the first to move, bringing a hand up to his own face and feeling around his eyes. They weren’t wet and when he pulled his hands away there was no blood.

“…Cas?” Dean’s voice was shaking, “Cas I…What have you done?”

“What I needed to.” When Castiel spoke his voice was full of sorrow and remorse, and his eyes were full of pain when he finally met Dean’s gaze, “I need to explain a ritual to you called Expiation. And I need you to listen, understand, and not be…well not be you about it, Dean.”

“Expiwhat?”

“Expiation.” Dean picked up his whiskey bottle, drank, and took another look at Cas’ wings before nodding. He could do that. He could listen and understand and he was already freaking out so what more was one more thing on top of this whole pile of crazy? He took a second long draw from the bottle before nodding at Cas to continue.

“Angels don’t have souls,” Cas began simply, “But we still feel emotions very deeply. Some of us have been created in ways that allow us to feel emotions better and more efficiently and effectively than others but without a soul we are, as a whole, generally not very good at some things. We aren’t good at empathising or sympathising or knowing when we wrong others emotionally.   
We know what it means to love and be loyal, but we don’t always know when we abuse that loyalty and cause pain and harm. And then when wrong is done to us, we feel the hurt and anger of that, but we can’t express it. We just aren’t good at it, we don’t know how. And then the angel who was hurtful cannot empathise and how what they did was harmful and doesn’t understand that they did wrong. They don’t understand because they aren’t the recipient, it doesn’t affect them directly.”

Castiel shifted uncomfortably in a way that Dean knew meant that what he was about to say was something that, as a human, he would find unpleasant.

“Expiation,” Cas continued, “was created as a ritual of absolution, repentance, and forgiveness. The angel who has brought significant pain to another to which they are loyal goes to them and bares their wings. Our wings are the most sensitive part of us, the most intimately connected to our grace. Once their wings are bared the angel surrenders themself to the wrath they have kindled and the angel from whom they seek forgiveness takes their own blade and carves into their wings an equal measure of pain and shame to what they feel.   
From there they part until the angel’s wings are fully healed, which cannot be quickened with grace, and once healed they may rejoin with all past sins between them forgotten.”

The cogs were turning in Deans, still sluggish, brain as he processed the words Castiel had said and paired them with the night’s events. He looked over the wings draped over his angel and the floor longingly and felt his heart sink.

“Cas…what are you asking?”

Castiel pulled out his angel blade from within his trench coat, his gaze once again falling to the floor, and held it out to to the crestfallen hunter sitting above him hilt first.

“For every lie, betrayal, and moment of pain I have caused you; since I pulled you from hell and tried to bring you into Heaven’s service, to my most recent and most heinous of sins against you - taking my knowledge of your soul and using it to emotionally rip you apart, which is forbidden by my father and now find you afraid of your soul and your innermost self. I ask that you take my blade.   
For all of my countless sins against you over all these long years, I beg you carve into my wings the pain that I have wrought upon you so that we may then find peace.”

Dean stared. He couldn’t find any words for several moments. Eventually he looked from Cas’ downcast face to the blade held out before him, and finally to the large, jet black wings splayed out across his bedroom so beautiful and so monstrous. He couldn’t believe that his best friend would think it was something he would want, or even something he could do. He gently shook his head, his gaze slowly moving back to the angel’s face which was still unerringly looking at the floor.

“…Are you on crack? Or meth or something? I’m not going to chop up your wings, Cas. You don’t deserve that.” He saw the angel’s jaw stiffen as he looked up and met Dean’s gaze defiantly.

“No, Dean,” Cas rolled his eyes, “I doubt there is enough of either substance in the United States to adequately affect me with my full grace. And maybe, by your human standards, I don’t deserve it. By Angelic standards I deserve far worse. I need you to do this Dean.

“I can forgive you for anything you think you’ve done without torturing you, Cas; I’m not even angry at you!” Dean cried out, desperately trying to explain that he didn’t feel like he was the one that had been wronged and violated in this scenario and Castiel wouldn’t back down.

“It’s not just about you, Dean. I need you to do this so that I can forgive myself and so that I can know, with certainty that I am forgiven by you and that we are okay.”

“We can be okay!” Dean spoke too quickly, making blue eyes narrow at him gravely, “I just…I don’t think I can do this to you. To your…” he trailed off and looked back to Castiel’s impressive wingspan, this time letting his gaze stay there.

“My wings would eventually heal, Dean,” Cas spoke gently, and tried to say it in a way that would make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal. But it _was_ a big deal. It was the biggest deal.

“You only just got them back,” Dean said again quietly, “and you were so broken when they were taken form you. I can’t do that to you. And I can’t hurt you like that, I can’t torture you like that. I won’t. Not you.” He had never been good with words, or expressive himself but he gave Cas an imploring sideways glance as he spoke again, hoping it was enough to push through his meaning, “You mean too much to me.”

He echoed the angel’s words from what seemed like so long ago and they were heavy on his tongue. It was the closest he had ever gotten to telling Castiel how he felt and it was already too difficult. It hurt and it weighed on him instantly. But Castiel nodded in understanding.

“I need you to at least think about it, Dean. I cannot forgive myself for all I’ve done without this. Especially what happened most recently. Using knowledge of a human’s soul against them is forbidden by my father, it’s not a small sin. Tell me you’ll think about it?”

“And what about what I’ve done?” Dean asked, ignoring Cas’ unwanted question entirely, “Are you able to forgive me for that?”

Cas’ eyes narrowed in confusion and he turned his blade over in his hands as he contemplated what Dean had asked for a time. Eventually his response was simple,

“I don’t understand what you’re referring to that you feel I need to forgive you for. You’ve done nothing against me.”

A confused expression made its way onto Dean’s face and they stared at each other in an odd caricature of incomprehension for a time, during which Dean thought that maybe Sam really was right about needing to communicate a bit better. This whole thing had gotten out of hand and turned to bullshit.

“Umm…” He cleared his throat awkwardly before trying to explain what he felt he had done wrong, “I’ve been kind of…violating you, I guess? For years? Yeah, I didn’t know I was doing it but I’ve been kind of sexually harassing and assaulting you for…most of the time we’ve known each other. That’s not okay. It’s not okay that I’ve that to you and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Cas.”

Dawning came to Castiel’s eyes and he nodded in understanding,

“Oh!” He said, “I see. Non-consensual sexual conduct towards another is a violation of the social contract, and it brings harm physically and psychologically through various means including the removal of bodily autonomy.”

“Right. Yeah, that.” Dean said off-handedly, “I’ve been doing that.”

“You haven’t been doing that.” Cas brushed it off like it meant nothing, “It’s not a conversation for now, but there is nothing you need to feel guilty for; I should have made that clearer.”

“Well I feel like an asshole for it.” Dean reached up and palmed his eyes. He could hear movement as Castiel stood and stepped closer to the bed; and when he looked to see, his angel stood before him, wings outstretched and blade in hand. He couldn’t help but swallow hard.

“You _will_ think about it?” Castiel asked holding the hilt of his blade out to Dean once more. The hunter took it, more out of reflex than desire, and nodded.

“Yeah, Cas, I’ll think about it; but I really don’t want to.”

“Is it time for us to disavow ourselves?” Castiel’s eyes darkened and grew sad at the idea but Dean shook his head.

“No. No, Cas, don’t abandon me.”

“Then, please, you _need_ to consider doing this for me.”

For the first time in their long friendship, Dean got to see what it actually looked like when Castiel flew off into the ether. His wings spread out gloriously, stretching before reaching behind Cas and curling; cupping air and who knew what else across planes. And then they beat once around Cas’ body and pulled him backwards into whatever ephemeral plane or veil he had slipped into to travel. Dean even saw the space around him warp and bubble as he flew away. It was so weird.

And then he was alone. Alone with his thoughts, two nearly empty bottles of whiskey, and Castiel’s angel blade. Which, now that he wasn’t so distracted he realised felt different now that Cas had changed him.

He could feel it vibrating with a gentle him. It felt like Cas’ grace. He made a mental note to check the other blades he had later, but at that moment he needed Sam.

He needed his little brother’s advice, his knowledge, and his research skills. Hopefully he had returned from his supply run. It had been hours since Cas had first showed up, so unless he’d decided to catch a late night movie showing he should be around somewhere. Dean strode out of the bedroom, blade still in hand, unable to put it down and let go of the feeling of keeping Cas close just a little longer.

“Sammy!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Dean, just can't catch a break. Well, he has gotten to gaze upon Cas' wings a little now; I guess that's considered a break. Hahaha 
> 
> Head-canon update! In this chapter, when Castiel is asking Dean to take out his anguish upon his wings he mentions that it is forbidden by his father to use a human's soul against them and that it's not a small sin. This is part of a head-canon I have relating to the difference between when Chuck ruled the angels and when the archangels took over. I basically think of it as there are two tiers of laws for the angels, laws that they MUST NOT break, those set out by Chuck, and those that they SHOULD NOT break, which were set out by the archangels. Since Chuck favoured humans and wanted the angels to put them first, I place using a human's soul as leverage against them in the 'MUST NOT' as laid down by God category. 
> 
> Also, thanks for reading! and thank you everyone so far for all your kudos and comments and such! I hope you continue enjoying as we go on. As I've said before, this is my first fic here on Ao3 and my first time putting anything out there in a LONG time so I really appreciate your reading. And as usual, not beta-read so I apologise for any spelling and grammatical weirdness.


	6. But You're the King of Loopholes!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his eventful (Yet frustratingly uneventful) night with Cas, Dean seeks out Sam for some much needed advice and insight.

Sam was always easy to find when he was in the bunker, If he wasn’t with Dean in the war room or somewhere with food there were only two places you would ever find the tall man. His room, which was a rarity, or the library, which was almost always.

Dean had to walk past Sam’s room to head to the library anyway to he pushed open the door and took a quick glance inside. His lumberjack of a little brother wasn’t there so the library it was.

He found Sam with an armful of books, as usual, as he continued to peruse some obscure lore on Peruvian wizards. He cleared his throat gently to alert the taller man to his presence, having learned long ago that when Sammy had his nose in a book you didn’t have to be sneaking to surprise him, and surprising him when he had a book meant that you got injured.

“How’d the private talk go?” Sam was clearly trying to sound casual, like he wasn’t desperate for juicy gossip, but Dean knew his brother better than that. He also wasn’t in the mood.

“I need you to help me find every bit of lore we have on angel wings and angelic rituals and social conventions.”

“Dude, you know where the angel lore is,” Sam glanced at him like he was an idiot before rolling his eyes and Dean glared. It had been a weird night, full of weird physical ups and downs (with ZERO satisfaction mind you) not to mention mental ones; and a shitty couple of weeks after what had all started on probably the worst and most embarrassing night of his life. He was just _not_ in the mood for Sammy’s flippancy.

“No, Sammy,” his tone was aggressive but he didn’t care, he just wanted answers and wanted them quickly. Then maybe he could go back to his whiskey bottle until he passed out, “I need specifics, dammit. Just about wings and social shit. Especially healing times and some stupid-ass ritual called ‘expiation’ or some shit.”

Sam dropped his books.

 _‘Great,’_ Thought Dean, _‘That’s always a good thing.’_

Sam turned to him, the colour drained from his face and for the first time since Dean had entered the library his brother looked him over and took in everything about him. The sweat sticky clothing, the mussed hair, the dilated eyes. The blade he was still holding.

“Dean,” Sam’s tone was serious and grave, while attempting to be calming. The elder Winchester hadn’t heard his brother’s voice like that in a long time. Not since he’d still borne the mark of Cain, “Where’s Cas.”

“I don’t know,” his answer only served to increase the look of worry on Sam’s face and Dean suddenly remembered what Castiel had said about angels going away after expiation until their wings had healed. He looked desperately from his brother to the blade and back again before stepping backwards with a hand raised defensively, "Oh, no! God, Sammy, No!”

“No?” Sam looked at his skeptically, eyes wide. He looked like he was about to panic. He pointed to the sparkling blade in Dean’s hand, “Is that even yours, of is it Cas’ blade? It looks way better cared for than any of the ones you have!”

“It’s Cas’, but…” Dean trailed off when he saw Sam’s jaw drop and his eyes widen further, “Sammy, I didn’t. He asked, begged, gave me the blade and when I said no he…he said that if I don’t he’ll have to leave. He made me promise to think about it.” Dean looked at the blade in his hand, felt the way it resonated. He had to keep himself from smiling at the way it made him feel like Cas was by his side, it would just make him look like a maniac to his brother.

“He gave you time to think about it?” Sam sounded confused, “That’s unusual. Maybe because you’re human. Come to think of it, how are you even meant to do this, anyway? Did he even explain what it is? You can’t see his wings, it’ll kill you to try.”

That was better. Dean took a calming breath. Now that Sam seemed satisfied that he hadn’t tortured and maimed their best friend at the other end of the bunker; that big, curious, glorious brain of his was kicking into research mode. Which was just what Dean wanted and needed.

“I think he took pity on my poor human sensibilities and gave me time to process,” Dean said. Sam chuckled, which was nice. They didn’t often get to joke about being human, “And he did…something. I dunno what it was but he messed with my brain and stuff and now I can see his wings.”

“You saw them?” Sam’s face lit up like a kid in a candy store, “What were they like?”

Dean smiled sheepishly, it almost felt like they were teenage girls gossiping about the cute new guy at their high school. Only they weren’t, they were gossiping about Castiel’s wings which seemed weird and inappropriate. But Dean was in such awe of them.

“They’re amazing Sammy,” He said, unable to keep the massive grin off his face, “they’re huge and black. But they look slick and shiny like oil.”

“Did you touch them?”

“Hell no!” Dean laughed outright, “I was way too scared to ask. Especially since Cas was begging me to tear them to shreds.”

The smile faded from Sam’s face as he remembered what the basis of their conversation was, “Dean, I’m sorry but you have to do it.”

“How do you apparently know so much anyway, Mr. Expert?” Dean remained defiant.

Sam pushed his way passed Dean to sit down in one of the arm chairs they had set up long before.“I still have some memories from Lucifer and Gadreel,” Sam said casually, “As you can imagine, they were put through a lot of expiation to atone for their wrongs against the host before they were finally cut off.”

“Oh…” Dean walked over but remained standing, “Are you okay?”

“Wasn’t my wings.” Sam shrugged.

“On the plus side,” Taking Sam’s dismissal to mean the subject of his brother’s feelings on the matter were fiercely and firmly off the table, Dean sidelined away from, “If anyone can find a way for me to help him through this without hurting him, it’s you.”

“There’s no way out, Dean.”

“There’s _always_ a way out.”

“There’s _no_ way out, Dean. I’m sorry, This is just how angels are built. This is part of their culture and how Chuck designed them to be,” Sam sighed sadly, “To be honest, Cas will probably find it a great mercy if he comes out of it alive. The two of you dodge around each other so badly you take out little cuts constantly; it was going to blow up eventually. Poor guy probably thinks he deserves death or to have his wings cut off entirely for the sum of everything that’s happened between you over the years. That’s what an angel would do to him.”

“But he doesn’t deserve that,” Dean turned the blade over in his hands, “And he shouldn’t think that he does! No one deserves that!”

“But he _will_ think that, Dean,” Sam’s tone was imploring, “Because that’s the way Chuck built him.”

“So…” Dean kept staring at the blade slowly twirling between his fingers, “You’re saying that there’s no way out? At all?”

Sam shook his head solemnly, “None at all. And you can’t under-do it, or it will seem insincere.”

“What?” Dean glared at his brother, “You’re telling me there’s a _minimum_ level of torture I have to put him through?”

“It has to be an equitable punishment for the crime committed,” Sam tried to explain while rubbing his forehead, Dean could see that he was trying to thin about it rationally and logistically. That was what Sam did. But as much as Dean tried to hide his emotions, emotion was what he rode on, he couldn’t just calculate an equal measure of physical pain that matched emotional pain. The notion was ridiculous. “We’re gonna need his help,” Sam said, “We’re gonna need a list or something of everything he thinks he needs to be forgiven for; otherwise there’s no hope of doing this thing properly.”

“We shouldn’t be entertaining the idea of doing this at all!” Dean suddenly yelled, “it’s barbaric and he doesn’t fucking deserve it!”

He heard Sam sigh but didn’t see it as he stormed off out of the library, slamming the door behind him. The walk towards his room started at a brisk pace full of anger and frustration but it quickly petered off until he stopped altogether at the top of the hall to the dormitory. He thought about his room with the pair of almost empty bottles side by side on the floor and the atmosphere heavy with everything that had happened that night. The extra chair in the corner that Dean had put there when he first chose the room, it was Cas’ chair even though the angel hadn’t watched over him at night (as far as he knew) in years, he kept the extra chair there just in case. It made him feel better knowing that there was a place for him in case he ever wanted or needed it.

He couldn’t go back there. It was too heavy. He turned towards Castiel’s room instead.

The angel wasn’t there of course, and Dean found himself wondering where he’d been during all of this. He made his way to the pristine bed, unlaid in for god knew how long, and sat on the edge as he places Castiel’s blade on the bedside table.

As the comforting vibration left his hand, Dean felt suddenly alone. With a sigh he looked around the sparse room. Cas had never really made his own, which Dead had always put down to being of ‘those weird angel things’ about the blue-eyed wonder. Angels were never allowed to individualise after all. He sighed again, aching from everything he’d been through and lay down on the bed, curling on his side with his hands under the pillow beside his head. He stared at the blade on the bedside table.

He watched it and he prayed.

“Cas? Castiel?” Dean spoke aloud though his voice was quiet, hardly above a whisper, “I know I haven’t prayed in a while, well, not knowingly at least. So I hope you’re hearing me. I don’t know what to do with today, but Sammy says I need to try and be more open about stuff so I guess I’ll give that a try.  
It’s too much. It’s all too much. You gave me more than I will ever deserve - I can see your wings and they’re…they’re awesome. They’re more than awesome. I get what you’re asking me to do, and that it’s an angel thing. I might not understand anything behind it, but I understand that. And I get that you feel like it’s something you need; but I don’t know if I can do it, man. I just don’t know if I can physically do it. Not to you.  
You just got your wings back, you have suffered so much without them, for so many years. The angels have put you through so much. You and me, we’ve been through so much.   
You’ve suffered more than you could ever deserve, and you definitely don’t deserve to have your wings ripped apart. Not by me. Not by anyone.   
I’m not hurt by what you did, Cas, I’m embarrassed by my own behaviour.   
Please don’t make me do it.”

He had said everything that he felt that he wanted to say. Maybe not everything he needed to. His brain was screaming at him to finish off by telling the angel how he felt. He already knew, so what would the harm me? But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t get it out. He wasn’t ready.

“Good night, Cas. If you fly back tonight at all, I’m in your room. Mine was too heavy. I hope you don’t mind. I know you won’t be sleeping but…have a peaceful night, I guess? Amen.”

Dean had barely finished speaking when he felt the phone in his jeans pocket vibrate. Awkwardly, he wriggled around and reached down to worm his phone out of his pocket without sitting up. He’d had enough of the night already. He was done. Sitting up could go to hell. He looked to the screen to see a text from Cas/

From: Cas  
I don’t mind at all. Try to get some sleep, Dean. Sweet dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming, thank you for staying! 
> 
> Usual blah blah: not beta read, my first fic on A03. blah blah.
> 
> Also, I need to let you all know that uploads may slow down juuuuust a smidge from now as I'm now caught up with my handwritten manuscript. I have a two-point process where I handwrite then type, because otherwise I just DO NOT get time to write. So most of my writing is done on on the go in little notebooks and then typed up in a hurry (which is why you might occasionally see some weirdo typos). So yes, I'm almost done with the next chapter handwritten so you may get it in the next 24 if I have a chance to type it. otherwise it might be 48.


	7. Just Like Anything Else, Right?

When morning came Dean felt both incredibly well rested and entirely unwilling to remove himself from Castiel’s bed. But he could hear Sam calling out to him from the hall wondering where he was, and the concern in his brother’s voice was evident.

“In here!” He sat up, still in his jeans and t-shirt from the night before and was rubbing his eyes as San opened the door cautiously and entered.

“Hey,” The taller brother had a worried look on his face but a casual tone in his voice, “You okay? When you weren’t in your room I thought maybe you’d gone off somewhere but the impala was still in the garage so…”

“I’m fine,” Dean waves off his brother’s concern, “My room was just too much after last night, you know.”

“Yeah, I get that.” And Dean was sure that he did, but when Sam’s room was too much for him it was always a library chair he could found curled up in.

“Anyway, you should get up,” Sam smiled, “I’m making breakfast and you have a delivery.”

Sam was making breakfast. Sam never made breakfast. Dean made breakfast, he was the breakfast king. And since when did deliveries just arrive at the bunker?

Dean’s shit couple of weeks were about to turn into a shit month and he knew it.

Sighing, Dean stood up. He felt disgusting. He smelled and his clothes clung to him from the night before.

“Before any of that though, I’m showering.” Sam smiled at him and they made to walk into the hall together when Dean suddenly stopped, an uncomfortable expression on his face. A jarring and uncomfortable itch had started to rise under his skin as he exited the room and he was suddenly full of compulsion.

Full of confusion, he re-entered the room quickly to retrieve Cas’ blade from the bedside table. As soon as his fingers touched the cool enochian steel he felt the discomfort calm and the warm vibration of the blade return to him. He couldn’t leave it behind. He physically needed it nearby. It was the first blade all over again. Shit. He picked up the blade carefully before also pocketing his phone for good measure and returning to the hallway.

As the elder Winchester made it back to the hall, his brother was mirroring his confused expression.

“…Don’t think there are any rogue angels in the shower block, Dean.”

“I can’t leave it.” Dean said uncomfortably and honestly. Sam raised an eyebrow curiously.

“Why?”

“I dunno.” Dean shrugged and shook his head. He felt defeated. “I dunno, and right now, I don’t really care. It was uncomfortable to leave it behind so it’s coming with me.” He walked off, spinning the blade deftly in his hand and yelling over his shoulder, “Everything is messed up and turning to shit and I’m just gonna roll with it!”

The connection with the angel blade was both strange and comforting, especially when Dean compared it to the way the first blade had made him feel. Whereas that had made him feel bloodthirsty and fierce, the gentle hum of Cas’ blade made him feel emboldened and righteous.

The question in Dean,s mind about the strange connection though, was how it had come about. Had it been the way Castiel had changed him, or because the angel had given him his personal blade?

It would need to be investigated, Dean decided as he entered the shower block and grabbed some spare clean towels they kept in a cupboard near the doorway. As he arranged the towels nearby to his chosen shower with the blade on top he found himself missing its hum already and wondering if it would get jealous of him testing the other angel blades. The first made used to get jealous, he remembered, if he used other knives, especially if his opponent died and it missed out on taking a life.

He turned the shower taps and stripped down as he waited for the water to warm. When he stepped over the boundary between the main bathroom and the shower, from linoleum to non-slip tile, the uncomfortable itch under his skin started again. The warm water felt blissful in his hair and on his skin, but just under the surface it felt like locusts were trying to escape his body.

These dual sensations since had Cas changed him were starting to drive the hunter nuts. ‘They better wear off soon or by Chuck…’ he didn’t know what he would actually do but as he was lathering the shampoo in his hair he was starting to think that, actually, bringing the angel blade _into_ the shower would actually be a great idea.

It wasn’t a great idea. It was a terrible idea. Dean knew it was a terrible idea and as he started scrubbing his skin with the exfoliating soap he let Sam buy and pretended that he hated, the itch got worse. Painful. He grit his teeth, cleaning himself as quickly as he could and put the soap back in its place.

Even the water was starting to hurt. Shakily Dean reached forward to support himself against the wall, letting the water from the shower hit him like daggers as his body screamed to be back with the blade a few short steps away.

“Cas…” Dean all but whimpered, “What have you done to me?”

He stayed there, grinding his teeth against the worsening pain as he trembled, until he was satisfied that all the suds were gone; rinsed away innocently as if they weren’t full of agony.

Fumbling Dean managed to turn off the water from his braced position and then gloriously, mercifully, the onslaught of daggers stopped. But the internal screaming of his muscles, his bones, his soul; that was only growing louder. And it felt like a part of him wasn’t just scratching to get out and towards the blade, but painfully flinging itself around his body, desperate to vacate.

Was it his soul? What else could it be that could so freely move around inside him? Was he just more aware of it now since the change?

He scoffed, supporting himself heavily as he made to leave the shower, even his own soul was over his bullshit. How funny and sad was that? His own soul wanted out from the pitiful shitshow he’d turned things into. Pathetic.

But then Dean stepped over the minuscule barrier between the shower bay and the bathroom proper. As soon as his toes touched the cool linoleum and the shining angel blade came into view, he felt the agitation calm and heard a distinct relaxed sigh within himself as, what he now thought for sure was his soul, settled down inside his skin.

“What the?” Glaring, Dean pulled his foot back into the shower bay to test his theory. His soul protested, hammering against his skin once more, so Dean quickly left the shower bay entirely with a frustrated cry of, “It’s the same damn room!”

Annoyed and aching, but thankfully clean, Dean went to the pile of towels and the blade. He picked up the shining blade and glared at it, “you’re going to be the death of me,” then placed it aside again and dried himself. Once done he pulled his boxers and jeans back on, grabbed the blade, and strode out of the bathroom grumpily. He’d decided not to put his t-shirt back on, it was a too gross from the previous night, but finding a fresh one could wait until after breakfast. He’d already kept Sam waiting too long, so he hurried towards the dining room.

Sam had already started tucking into his bacon and eggs. Dean noticed a distinct lack of greenery on their plates. No vegetation at all, not even a mushroom or hashbrown. This wasn’t a Sam breakfast, this was a Dean breakfast. It did nothing to make the older brother feel better about things.

Suspicious, he sat down in front of his own plate, opposite his brother, put Cas’ blade down on the table gentle, and began to eat.

“You okay?” Sam asked after a while of silence, “You took ages. I was about to come and make sure you hadn’t passed out or something, and you look really tired.”

“M’fine.” Dean mumbled in response, refusing to look at his brother. He was managing to eat and Sam was a decent cook overall, he just wanted to know what was going on.

“Sam, what’s going on?” He asked, fatigue and dejection clear in his voice, “I’m not in the moon. I’m dealing with too much crap to put up with your vagueness even if you think it’s doing me good. I’m not in the mood.”

Sam raised an eyebrow and watched him thoughtfully for a few moments as he masticated some bacon; then he reached to the chair next to him and produced a sealed manila envelope and placed it on the table.

“After our talk last night,” Sam started once the offending mouthful of bacon had been swallowed, “I called Cas to talk about his expiation.”

“Why, Sam? Why did you do that?” Dean rubbed at his forehead, a headache already starting to form and he hadn’t even been up an hour. Why couldn’t all this just go away and leave him alone?

“Because we both know you won’t,” Sam replied tersely. He was right, but it didn’t stop Dean being pissy, “I told him that you will find it hard to make a decision without all the information, and that we just don’t have it.”

Dean was glaring at his brother and was almost, kind of secretly hoping that his head would explode; but he was still listening.

“I told him that we need info on the protocols on expiation as well as the anatomy and healing information of wings. And that he needs to send a detailed list of everything he feels he required absolution for and what the protocol would require the minimum punishment be for that. I explained that without the information it’s impossible to know if it’s something that you can consider.”

Dean’s glare lessened. Sam was right. Again. As usual. As always. When did Sam become the guiding force between them anyway? A while ago, maybe, when it came to approaching things rationally. Dean shifted, crossing his arms and sitting back in his chair, waiting for the explanation to continue.

“Well, around six this morning he showed up with this,” Sam eyed the envelope meaningfully, “said he wouldn’t disturb you since you were sleeping but that you have to open it. Apparently some of the information is sensitive.”

“I’ll say.” Dean rolled his eyes as he reached for the envelope. It was heavy and the document he pulled from inside once he got it open was handwritten in black and blue ink. And it was thick. Almost two inches and double sided. His jaw dropped and he looked to Sam whose eyes were wide.

“This thing’s huge!” Dean exclaimed but all Sam could do was shrug and keep eating his pile of eggs.

The first thing that Dean noticed was that it wasn’t actually all one bulk document, but several. There was ‘The List’ which he set aside right away, unable to face it; a fairly long one about angel wings and their physiology, including some roughly drawn diagrams; a shorter document explaining expiation itself in detail, from its origins and importance to the role of specific areas of the wing being traditionally used for the absolution of specific sins; and finally there was a letter.

Before Dean began to read any of it something smacked him in the face that he really didn’t like. It was unsettling and have him the nagging feeling that Cas was being manipulated again.

“This isn’t all Cas.” He said it bluntly, before his brain had fully processed the information. But it made Sam look up from his breakfast again.

“What?” Dean picked up the thinner, stapled document detailed expiation and its history and held it up so that Sam could see.

“Does that look like Cas’ hand-writing to you?” The handwriting on the paper Dean held aloft was graceful, elegant and flowing. And while they both knew that Cas had nice handwriting, it was definitely not that grandiose. Sam slowly shook his head, his eyebrows creased with concern.

“Is it just that one?”

Dean looked through the others, just surveying the writing and not reading the words. The letter was all Cas, and the wing physiology. But the list wasn’t.

“Cas and the mystery writer have both had input on the list,” Dean said worriedly, “whoever it is has made edits on the punishment expectations.”

Sam stopped eating, leaned over and snatched the list, ignoring Dean’s cried of ‘Hey! Sensitive information, remember!’ The furrow in Sam’s brow deepened further as he skimmed a few pages.

“Every edit has been to _lower_ the punishment Cas has recommended.”

“Who would Cas even trust to help him with this? Not another angel, surely?”

“Must be, who else would even have the knowledge to help?”

Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket, put it on the table and started dialing.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked confused.

“I’m calling him.” Dean hit call and speaker and the sound of ringing filled the room.

“ _This_ makes you call him?”

“Damn right it does!”

“Hello Dean,” Cas’ voice rilled the room, slight confusion evident in his tone. Probably wondering why he was calling, Dean realised. And suddenly Dean was nervous, unsure about how to broach the subject.

“Hey Cas, thanks for all the info you dropped off.”

“You’re welcome, Sam said it may be helpful.”

I’m sure it will be.” Dean decided to just throw it out there, it was too important to try and be delicate, “Hey, umm…who helped you write it?”

There was a long silence and Sam looked at him oddly. Dean was about to ask if Cas was still there when he finally spoke,

“A friend.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’re giving me?”

“It’s all I can say right now.”

“Another angel?” Sam asked before Cas could hang up.

“Yes, Sam, he is an angel and a friend.”

“We don’t really have any angel friends left, Cas…” Dean said awkwardly.

“We haven’t for some time, no.” Cas agreed, “But he is a friend. Don’t worry.”

“Are you sure you can trust him, Cas? This wasn’t his idea? You haven’t, I dunno, been coerced into his at all?”

They heard a scoff and a chuckle in the background. It didn’t resonate with Dean at all but Sam straightened and looked to him in confusion.

“Does that laugh sound kind of familiar to you?” Dean frowned and shook his head, but the response from Cas was to abruptly and unceremoniously hang up on them.

“But maybe it should?” The handset on the table vibrated and lit up to show a text received from Cas; Dean opened it without hesitation.

From: Cas  
I haven’t been coerced, and we can certainly trust him. He just isn’t prepared to reveal himself due to safety concerns, he is not of Heaven’s ranks.

Dean read the text aloud and Sam shrugged.

“I guess it’s not a problem for right now,” Dean continued as he tossed his phone aside with a sigh and turned his attention back to the handwritten documents now strewn across the table, “If Cas trusts this guy with _this_ then we should trust Cas, I guess.” He reached for the letter first as Sam stood from the table,

“I’ll get you some coffee,” The younger Winchester said, slapping his brother on the shoulder as he passed, “And if I can help, let me know.” Dean grunted his acknowledgment and tried to get comfortable. He had a lot of reading ahead of him and he wasn’t going to skimp on any of it.

He forced himself to focus on the letter and began to read;

_Good morning Dean,_

_I hope that you will find the information provided here helpful and elucidative. The information regarding wing physiology, function, and healing response is specific to my personal wingspan as this can differ between angels per their species and class. I trust that you will treat this information with care as in the wrong hands it could turn into a point of tremendous vulnerability for me._   
_The information on expiation itself should hopefully shed some light on that is expected and what it means. Technically the ritual began when I relinquished my blade to you and has already begun. I don’t now if this will affect either of us in any way; expiation had never been delayed in this manner so far as I’m aware. Once the request has been made the response of either restitution or rejection is generally immediate. Please be mindful of any strange occurrences regarding yourself and inform me of them by prayer or text._   
_Remember, you should feel no different from the changes I made in you, anything unusual is related to the ritual._   
_Sam mentioned that without a list and a reference point of what must be done, there is no way you can be reasonably expected to make an assessment as to whether you can, or should, complete the task I have requested of you._   
_He’s right, of course, as I should have realised this. So please find enclosed a detailed list of everything, both major and minor sins, I feel that I have enacted upon you for which this ritual applies. Remember when reading this list that what I have asked of you doesn’t relate to anything that doesn’t apply directly to you._   
_I also ask that with the exception of item he is already aware of, please do not discuss the items of the list with Sam. Many are extremely personal and bring me great shame, I would prefer even you remain unaware. But, sadly, it seems necessary to move forward._   
_Lastly, I feel that a time frame is necessary and must be applied for my own peace of mind. I feel that a week is a reasonable time frame in which to expect a response. Further, I fear that given how extensive the damage may be should you choose to honour my request for absolution, I may not be able to fly afterward._   
_I therefore ask that, if possible, could you come to California to complete the expiation? Another angel here, who has assisted in the accuracy of this information will be able to see to any after care I need, as you will have to leave as soon as the ritual is complete._   
_I’ll text you an address in hopes that you will be there_

_\- Cas_

As Dean had been reading he had vaguely noticed Sam scuttling around the table, but hadn’t really paid attention to what he was doing until he’d gotten through the letter.

When he looked up he saw that their laptops had appeared and been plugged in, notebooks and post-its had arrived, as well as pens, highlighters, and more coffee. With a smile Dean handed the letter to Sam who cautiously raised an eyebrow as he took it.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to read anything, really?” He said, skeptically, despite having already broken the rule earlier.

“Only the list really,” Dean explained, finally picking up his lukewarm coffee and chugging half of it before burping, “Go ahead, read.”

And Sam did. Carefully and quietly, taking the letter to the other side of the table to sit with it in front of his laptop. Dean picked up the information on Castiel’s wings. It probably wasn’t the most important thing on the table, but it was what he cared most about.

His green eyes were narrowed in concentration as he focused on one of the hastily scribbled, yet incredibly intricate drawings, of Cas’ wings when Sam finished reading the letter.

“So, California huh?”

“California.”

“We going?”

“Have to.” Dean replied simply, eyes still stuck firmly on the drawing of a wing, “even if we find me a way out of this time, we still have to go and drag his feathery ass back here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual blah blah: not beta read etc. 
> 
> Also, thank you for reading! And for all your comments! Also, you should get two chapters tomorrow if everything goes to plan hehehe
> 
> btw, if anyone was wondering i DO have a tumblr, I mostly use it to follow other people and read their fics but if you do want to find me so you can throw questions or suggestions or prompts or anything else at me. please feel free to! https://etherealxen.tumblr.com/ I even plan to make it look pretty in the next few days if I have time and can be bothered.


	8. California, Here We Come

“Dean? Dean, wake up.” Sam gently shook his brother’s shoulder, carefully avoiding the enochian blade that Dean was clutching close to him as he slept.

As the days had worn on the problems with the blade had increased. The way that Dean couldn’t leave it behind in another room seemed innocent enough at first, weird sure, but innocent; yet it had all gone downhill since then.

When they’d mentioned it to Cas he was certain that it was because it the expiation ritual and that since his blade had been relinquished to Dean it was in his charge and expected to be with him. Constantly.

He now had to eat, shower, and sleep with the damn thing help in his hand or perched in his lap; otherwise he ended up writing in pain on the ground.

Sam had pitied and hurt for his older brother many times over the years and for many reasons; but these past few weeks were really starting to take the cake. And they weren’t even there yet, not at that horrible, impossible impasse.

The impala was packed, gassed, and ready to go. He’d included all their notes and research for them to go over on the way to California but…they hadn’t found a way out. Sam knew they wouldn’t but he also had to let Dean try. He’d just been so desperate to try. And out of it they had found a kind of loophole that, while absolutely horrifying, would serve as a suitable Plan B if Dean couldn’t go through with the ritual properly.

The older Winchester had been depressed before, but nothing like this; Sam was sure of it. There had always been a way out, a spark of hope. There was none of that in his brother as the days wore on. He was hallowing out, knowing he was defeated and about to face something he truly couldn’t bear.

It had never been so difficult to rouse him.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice remained gentle, but he shook his brother a little more roughly, Slowly, Dean’s eyes peeled open to stare blankly at his bedroom wall, “It’s time to get going, long drive ahead.”

Dean adjusted his grip on Cas’ blade before sitting up and sighing,

“Twenty-some hours right?” He coughed, “Hope you packed me some Redbull.”

Sam glared, giving his brother his best bitch face as he got out of bed.

“Dean, no, we’ve been through this,” he said sternly, his arms crossed, “you aren’t driving. Look at the state you’re in; you can’t drive it.”

“No, I _have_ to drive,” Dean’s voice was just as stern as he pulled on a fresh shirt awkwardly, changing which hand held the blade part way through, “ _you_ need to keep going over everything to find our last minute miracle. I’m out, my research skills are past their peak on this. It’s on you.”

Sam sighed, rubbing his forehead, “Dean, we’ve tried. We’ve tried hard. We’ve tried harder than we would’ve with anything else. There’s nothing, no way out. We need to start being realistic.”

Dean accursedly pointed the blade at his brother like it was a sharp, shining, finger of judgment.

“Don’t you dare give up yet, Sammy. We’ve still got twenty-something hours to go. There’s still time. _There’s still time_.”

Dean strode past him, unconsciously spinning the blade in his hand as he headed towards the garage. Sam sighed and shook his head. This wasn’t going to end well and he knew it. Dean was desperate and clinging to a hope that just wasn’t there.

Slowly, he turned and followed his brother towards tge garage, mentally preparing himself for the longest drive to California they would ever make.

***

There was no way in hell that Dean was ever going to have let Sam drive that trip. It was too crucial and their time was running out too fast.

Dean wasn’t as good at research and lateral thinking as Sam, never had been. It was a simple fact and his feeling useless and unable to find an answer definitely didn’t have anything to do with him feeling shitty, depressed, and like he was letting down everyone he cared for.

Again. Like he always did. Like it was all he could ever do.

So he had convinced Sam to let him drive. Made Sam do more research. Convinced himself that he couldn’t find a way, but Sammy could.

Sammy, with his big pre-law brain and amazing talent for finding rational manipulations of the rules, _he_ could find a way out. _He_ had been the one that found their Plan B, _He_ had kept them fueled and kept Dean sane through everything. _He’d_ gotten all the information from Cas at the start of the week.

Dean had mostly just been an emotional wreck.

So he did the driving. Driving was what he was good at. The purr of Baby all around him helped to calm his nerves, and Sammy at his side reading over notes…it wasn’t that different to when they were on their way to a regular hunt.

Except for the blade in desperate need for his attention constantly sitting in his lap reminding him of their purpose.

They barely stopped except for bathroom breaks. It was too difficult with the blade needing physical contact to keep it happy; and besides, Dean just wanted to arrive. He just wanted to get there and see Cas and convince him to just please come home and…and not disfigure him.

Driving had always been when Dean had done his deepest thinking; his most meaningful inner contemplation. And it was no different during that drive.

He let his mind wander during the early hours of the morning, as Sam managed to get some sleep against the window. He pondered, for at least the thousandth time, over Castiel’s list of sins. It had been extensive and Dean understood why Cas felt the need to be forgiven. He especially understood why Cas had wanted to keep it private. What he had said in his letter about some of it being ‘sensitive’ and ‘shameful’ in nature was true. Especially so for an angel, probably. But it also shed light on why Dean wasn’t, in Cas’ eyes, at fault for his soul’s behaviour. It turned out that Cas had been enjoying those years of torment. Enjoying those private moments of Dean’s, savoured them. Coveted them. Watched them discreetly and invisibly from Chuck-knew-where on more than one occasion when he had the power.

Apparently voyeurism and a covetous nature are highly frowned upon in Heaven. Plus, you know, lust being one of the deadly sins which is apparently a big no for angels. On top of the whole ‘using a human’s soul against them’ thing that started the whole long journey that had him driving to California at 4am in the first place. And that was just a small portion of the list. It didn’t take into account any of his so-called ‘minor sins’ of which it seemed like he’d listed hundreds, or his ‘major’ ones, where there were dozens more. And of course he had other big seven contributors: wrath, pride, vanity…it was as if the list would never end; and it all related back to Dean. It was because of him. It was his fault. His doing. But he’d been too inwardly involved like always to ever have a damn clue.

No wonder Cas thought he deserved to have his feathers ripped out one by one by the roots. Dean was a piece of shit, just like he’d told Sammy that night on the motel room floor, and he’d been slowly dragging Cas down to his level since they’d met.

He should let him go. That would be the kind thing. Let him go and be free of all the crap that came with being the angel on Dean Winchester’s shoulder. The right thing to do would be to refuse. Refuse and reject. Cas didn’t need him. He needed Cas. It had always been that way and because of Dean’s selfishness Cas only ever got hurt. The only difference was that this time, if Dean let his selfishness win out, the pain inflicted on Cas would have to be done by him directly, by his own hand.

He would have to draw blood and grace. A lot of it. Cas would scream, maybe cry, and it would be all his fault. Directly, by his hand. The angel was expected a lot. Countless injuries, pools of blood, weeks of recovery; all because he thought his sins were so great. If Dean took him to that point he could die;it was definitely possible and they both knew it. Cas was willing to risk death so that he could be forgiven, that was the angel way. But for the selfish desire to not let him go, when he couldn’t even tell him the damn truth, Dean was actually considering it.

He shook his head at himself, eyes wet in the pre-dawn, wondering what kind of fucking monster he was, when he spotted a motel off the highway and poked Sam in the leg to wake him up.

They’d agreed to stop there when they had made plans the night before. It was still about an hour out of the city Cas had told them to meet at, but they wanted to allow for some decent rest for a few hours so that Dean could sleep. Plus, Cas hadn’t given them an exact address yet.

“Huh, wha?” Sam looked around foggily and then realised they were pulling into a car park, “Oh, we here?” The younger brother turned to his cohort in the driver’s seat and caught him wiping away some of the wetness on his face.

“Dean?”

“M’good, Sammy.”

“No, you’re not…”

“Just go and check us in, yeah?”

“Sure…” Sam got out of the parked car and headed to the office, leaving Dean alone in his misery. He focused on his breathing, calming himself until Sam came back and they made their way to the room together.

They walked in silently, their habits of being together so long taking over the need to talk. Dean went straight to his bed, there was no need to discuss which was his. He always had the bed closest to the door. He collapsed onto it. Castiel’s blade was still in his hand and he curled around it, pulling it tightly to his chest. He could hear Sam in the kitchenette making coffee, he’d had a reasonable five hours or so in the car so he wouldn’t sleep now.

“Sammy?” His voice was quiet and raw and his eyes had started to sting again, “You won’t stop looking, will you?” He heard Sam’s big footsteps cross the room then felt a blanket fall over him.

“No, Dean, I won’t stop looking. Get some sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Dean. He's really not in a good spot right now. And next chapter is THAT chapter. It's all done I'm just typing it up for you guys, so providing I have no interruptions it should be up for you soonish. Do you think Dean will turn Cas down? Go through with it? Will there be a miracle loophole one of them will come up with at the last minute? Also, Sam is the best brother ever; just putting it out there.


	9. Expiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come for the expiation ritual and Dean needs to decide if he can go through with it or not, and if he can how far he will go. Warning for this chapter: violence.

They didn’t receive a text from Cas until after six that night. It was sent to Sam’s phone, as planned, and they received it during dinner. They had braved going to a small, casual restaurant where Dean could hide the angel blade under his jacket. Dean hadn’t touched the burger and fries he’d ordered but Sam was happily munching away at his chicken and salad and talking at him when the text arrived.

In Dean’s mind everything had fallen apart. He’d finally agreed to hand over the reigns to the impala for the drive into town and handed over the keys; Sam hadn’t found anything else while Dean slept through the day and nothing else had jumped out at either of them that afternoon. There was nothing he could do. There was no way out. There had never been a way out.

And when Sam got the text and said it was time to go, all Dean could do was nod numbly and grip the blade he was clinging to under the table just that little bit tighter.

The walk to the impala felt cold, and the drive across town with Sam at the wheel felt like he wasn’t being taken to someone else’s retribution, but instead to his own judgment. Dean had been vaguely aware of the fact that his brother was talking, trying to keep things light, but none of his words actually penetrated through to his numb brain.

Then the impala began to slow and Dean finally looked up from the blade he held in his lap, his eyes taking in the scene outside the windows. They were surrounded by what looked like empty warehouses, a good choice really for what Cas was expecting to go down, and there was Cas. Standing nearby, next took a warehouse door in his trenchcoat and tie looking as if everything was fine and normal. Looking as if the world hadn’t come to an end.

Sure, he looked a little confused with his head tilted like that, he’d obviously expected Dean to be driving. Dean always drove. But otherwise he looked completely calm and nonplussed about why they were there.

Sam’s hand squeezed Dean’s shoulder gently, “Dean?” Dean’s gaze moved back to the blade held firmly in his lap. He turned it over gently, observing all its angles and the way it reflected the light.

“No last second miracle ideas for me, Sammy?” Dean knew the answer but needed to ask anyway. And when Sam shook his head in response Dean simply nodded his acknowledgment, “Okay. He rubbed his face before grabbing his duffel bag from where he’d stashed it as his feet, and reached for the door handle, “I guess it’s time then.”

They both exited the car and walked over to where Cas stood beside the warehouse door.

“You came,” Cas smiled, it was clear he hadn’t been entirely certain that they would show up at all.

“Of course,” Sam said, knowing that Dean wasn’t really able to say much, and could probably articulate even less in the state he was in, “couldn’t just leave you hanging, could we?”

Castiel’s eyes barely moved from Dean, but at that point he smiled at Sam, “I appreciate your coming as well, Sam; but you know you can’t be present for this.”

“I know,” Sam replied, unoffended, “It’s too personal, I understand. I’m sure I can find something to do.”

“You guys are talking like we’re here for a damn picnic,” Dean suddenly snapped, “tea and fucking cucumber sandwiches.”

“Dean…” Sam tried to start on saying something, probably comforting or profound, almost definitely accurate, but Dean cut him off.

“Just go, Sam, go.” And knowing better than to argue, Sam went. He hesitated and exchanged a meaningful look with Cas; but he did leave. And as they heard the sound of gravel crunching under the impala’s tired as it was pulling away Castiel spoke again.

“That was cruel.” The angel pulled out his phone and started playing on it. Dean’s eyes narrowed.

“This whole damn thing is cruel; what are you doing?”

“I’m messaging Sam.”

“Don’t apologise for me.”

“I’m not. I’m going to suggest someone for him to do. I think it would be good for him, mentally, to be doing something - anything - other than pacing around a motel room all night dwelling on what we’re doing here. Don’t you?”

And suddenly Dean felt like an asshole again. He waited for Cas to finish and then the angel led the way inside wordlessly.

The walls were covered in wards and sigils, many that Dean didn’t recognise.

“What’s with all the warding?” He asked as he put down his duffel bag and knelt down to open it.

“To make sure no one in Heaven catches sight of what we’re doing and chooses to take advantage during a vulnerable moment. Also there are certain protections included to keep us masked to passersby, like soundproofing.”

Castiel watched curiously as Dean unpacked the contents of his bag. A number of water bottles followed by a few small containers of holy oil and his zip lighter.

“Holy oil?” Cas’ eyes narrowed, “I have no plans on running away, Dean; this was my idea. That won’t be necessary.”

“It’s…it’s not for that…”Dean said gravely, leaving the items on the floor and walking up to where Cas stood a few meters away, with only the angel’s own blade on him as means of weaponry, “it’s the fall back. Sam said that there have been a couple of times where angels couldn’t, or wouldn’t, or just plain couldn’t be bothered to…expiate another by hand. So…so burning became…acceptable.” Dean stared at the floor, his eyes starting to sting again.

“…Yes, that’s accurate.” Cas’ voice was even. He didn’t sound horrified at the prospect, more mildly surprised that Dean and Sam had known, “How are you aware of that?”

“Michael did it to Lucifer once, apparently.”

“Oh! Yes, I remember that!” Dean looked up at the change in Cas’ voice as the pieces clicked together in his mind, “it was the first time it was ever done that way! Lucifer was _so_ angry.” Dean momentarily forgot about why he was there, lost instead at the small smile on Cas’ face as h laughed at Lucifer’s apparent tantrum He took in the angles and lines of his face. The nuclear radiance of that small smile. The impossible blue of his eyes, even though they were missing the glow of grace.

“…Dean?” Cas had repeated his name several times but it took a while for Dean to hear it, “Are you alright?”

“I should refuse you.” Dean blurted it out and Castiel was taken aback, clearly shocked that Dean would even turn up if his intention was to say no, “I decided on it last night on the drive here. Last night, this morning, whatever. When Sam was sleeping. I had it all figured out. That I should say no.”

“Why?” The hunter had seen his angel hurt before, so any times and in so many ways, but none of them compared to the slap that seemed to give the shine in Castiel’s eyes.

“Because I’m a piece of shit and you deserve better,” Dean started simply, “Because it’s not your fault. None of it it. You aren’t to blame for any of it, I am. I’ve torn you down from being something holy and righteous and dragged you through mud and nails and hailing bullets and I’ve destroyed you. And as much as it would kill me to send you away, you’d be better off for it.”

Castiel sighed deeply eyed his blade in Dean’s hand; the way he grasped it, clung to it as if it were keeping him breathing and upright, as if it were keeping him alive.

“Sending me away isn’t what you want though, is it Dean?” Dean shook his head slowly, refusing to speak, “Do you think it’s what I want?” Dean shook his head again before speaking lowly,

“I think you want me to do what you’ve asked me to.” His eyes were wet and he was trying to hard to hold the tears at bay; and when Cas nodded gently he returned the gesture and cleared his throat, “okay, let’s try and do this.”

“Dean,” Cas’ voice was serious, “just the blade, not your hands. I know I mentioned ripping out and plucking of feathers in my list but I’d rather not have negative memories of your hands on my wings…”

Dean swallowed hard and nodded, “Right. No ripping. Got it.” He took a few breaths to steel himself before meeting Cas’ gaze firmly, “Bring ‘em on out, we’ve got this.”

He didn’t really feel like he had control of the situation at all. But he was in a corner. No way out, no amicable means of surrender, the only way through was to give Cas what he needed to be forgiven. Or try to.

Warm blue light engulfed him and this time he was unafraid. He breathed it in and let it fill him and watched greedily as Castiel’s wings came forth and unfurled before him. The light faded, as it always did, but he couldn’t help but wonder if some light exited him in a wisp of smoke as he let out a shuddering breath. He longed for those wings, yearned for them, and didn’t bother to try and keep the look of desperation off his face. He could worship them. But all Cas wanted was the blade.

Dean licked his lips and closed his eyes, trying to bring himself back to reality. When he opened them again he caught Cas smiling at him, an endearing and soft expression on his face.

“What?” Dean asked defensively.

“Nothing, really.” Cas said, flexing his wings, “I’ll tell you next time.”

“Next time?” Dean sounded skeptical but Cas nodded surely.

“When I’m healed.”

Dean’s eyes darted across Castiel’s wingspan, “I don’t know how to start.”

Cas seemed to be prepared for that. He moved calmly into what he felt was a reasonable position while Dean watched him in confusion, before out of nowhere he lifted his fist and punched Dean across the jaw, knocking the hunter off balance.

“What the… _fuck_?” Dean yelled angrily grabbing at his jaw and checking for dislocation.

“Add it to my tally.” Cas threw another punch, and another, before Dean started to fight back. And before long blows were moving back and forth between them. But none of Dean’s punches hit, and he fought one handed, refusing to bring the blade into play.

Castiel at full power and with his wings out was so _fast_ and so _nimble_. More than once Dean had been sure he’d land a hit only to feel his fist move through air and to hear a mild chuckling from above where Cas had retreated to the high metal ceiling.

“Dammit, Cas, get your feathery ass down here you damn cheater!” Dean was nice and angry then, and he knew that had been Cas’ plan. Pick a fight, piss him off, the underlying blood-lust they both knew he had kick in eventually.

It didn’t take as long as he would’ve liked to have thought it would, only a few short minutes of this frustrating back and forth was what it took for him to lose it and bring the blade into the game. Dean swung the enochian steel aggressively, and as soon as Cas saw it he stopped his defense completely; letting it rip into his left wing and slice through several feathers making them fly as he cried out in pain.

Dean pulled the blade back quickly and saw that it was slick with blood.

“Cas…”

“There,” The angel growled, his eyes dark, “Now you’re started.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. Even though he’d known Cas had been manipulating the situation to get to this point he still didn’t like it. The feel of the angel blade slicing through Cas’ own feathers and flesh made his stomach turn. He wasn’t impressed. But it was what Cas wanted and now he was angry.

“Fine,” Dean growled, re-establishing his grip on the blade, “Guess I’ll just destroy us both then since it’s what you _really_ want.” He raised the blade high and stabbed down hard into Castiel’s wing, making him scream and fall to his knees.

Making his way around the angel to have better access to his wings, Dean then unleashed his fury. He hacked, stabbed, slashed, and sliced; letting out all of his anger, angst, and frustration. Every moment of doubt he had felt, every feeling of disappointment in himself, every feeling of inadequacy from the past week made into a swing, a thrust, or a stab.

He hated himself and that self-loathing could have fueled an eternity of rage - if his body had been able to keep up. But at the end of the day Dean Winchester was still one thing, and that thing was human. The anger began to wane, his body began to fatigue; and the adrenaline that had somehow been keeping Castiel’s screaming from his ears finally failing him.

The screaming started piercing his brain, the whimpering started to press against his soul. But it was the crying, the wracked sobs of pain that made the angel’s body tremble on all fours, looking as if it would buckle and collapse at any moment that truly broke him.

Dean was jolted back to reality and he looked at the scene he had made. Blood was everywhere, and grace poured out along with it from various wounds. Shocked by what he was seeing, Dean made to step backwards and nearly slipped in the pooling grace-streaked blood at his feet; and when he looked down to steady himself, he _saw_ himself.

It was a miracle he still had hold of the blade his hands and arms were so slick with blood.

“Oh, God…” Dean’s voice was shaking. He looked over Cas again. There was so much blood, too much blood. He’d killed him, surely he’d killed him.

But Cas’ wings still have the majority of their feathers. His wings were still moving and flexing with no real problems, and Castiel was still definitely alive. If anything, the sounds of incredible pain coming from him could attest to that.

Dean dropped the blade and, slipping slightly, made his way quickly around Cas to kneel before him face-to-face.

“Cas? Cas!” He grabbed at the angel’s shoulders with blood drenched hands, Cas couldn’t talk but he reached up and grabbed Dean’s slick arm firmly, reassuringly, “God, Cas, I’m sorry. Too much, I’ve done too much.” Cas shook his head, gradually calming himself but still focused on the floor. “There’s so much blood…” Dean continued, “I’ve gone too far, I’m sorry.” Cas kept shaking his head.

“N-no.” Cas finally managed to start talking, clearly grateful for the break, “We’re only…about a third of the way…”

Dean’s face fell. He looked over what he could see of Castiel’s wings, where he could now see gaping holes devoid of flesh and feathers. He looked at the carnage around them, feathers strewn across the warehouse floor, blown their by draughts and his fury. He looked at the blood and the grace. All of it was already too much and yet it wasn’t nearly enough. _‘A third of the way’_ He would need to do it again, and yet again after that. It was beyond him. He doubted he could have done it when he was at his worst. He doubted he could even have done it as a demon. Not to him. Not to Cas.

Gently, Dean moved a bloodied hand to Cas’ face and pulled it up, forcing the angel to look at him,

“Cas, I can’t do this.” As the words came out he broke. The tears that had been threatening to break through for days came gushing forward, “I can’t, I just can’t. I barely made it to here, I can’t do it again. I can’t do it all again; I can’t do it _twice_ again. I can’t give you this, even if you want it. I love you too much to hurt you like this.”

He saw Castiel’s eyes widen and realised that it was out. It was out and it hadn’t killed him, so he said it again and made his position clear.

“I love you, Cas; and I will not cut your wings anymore.” Cas scoffed and shook his head in disbelief.

“Now?” His gravelly voice was raw from screaming, “You choose _now_ to get your shit together and say it? Unbelievable.”

“Cas, I’m sorry for everything I always put you through.” Castiel sighed deeply, taking pity on his hunter, and pulled down on where he held onto his forearm - coaxing him closer. When the gap between them had been lessened enough he moved closer, slowly so as not to cause himself more pain, and pressed their lips together softly.

The kiss was chaste but held so much meaning and promise. When they parted Dean smiled softly, hopeful that it was over. But Cas’ eyes were dark, and then he spoke.

“Dean, get the holy oil.”

“Cas, no!”

“Burn them.”

The tears returned as Dean stood, filled with dejection and defeat. The tears were back before he’d even made it to the holy oil and when he turned back, oil in one hand, lighter in the other, he saw his angel praying.

“…Cas?”

Castiel finished his prayer and motioned for Dean to come back before bracing himself fully on all fours once again and spreading his wings, grimacing through the pain as he did so.

Cas wasn’t going to talk about it; that was clear. But why was he praying? And who to? To Chuck? It didn’t matter in the end. Dean brought up his hand holding the lighter and attempted to wipe his tears on his rolled-up sleeve as best he could. He felt blood smearing across his face instead.

Numbly and with his feet barely lifting from the concrete, he walked back to Cas, and along his outstretched right wing. He sniffed, wanting to just run a hand through the beautiful feathers that remained. But he couldn’t. Cas had asked so much of him and he couldn’t give it; he’d been too wear. But he’d also been asked not to touch, not to cause negative associations of his hands on those wings. He could do _that_. He could give Cas _that_.

So instead he cried through shuddering breaths and when he made it to the tip of Cas’ wing he stepped behind and started pouring oil carefully onto and into the feathers. He walked Cas’ wingspan, openly sobbing, as he poured oil and made sure they were appropriately doused. Or at least, as much as they could be without touching and rubbing it in to help it along.

All the while Cas stayed silent, breathing gently and calmly as the oil dribbled into his feathers. But when Dean was finished, he spoke.

“Thank you Dean,” His voice was mostly the same as it had always been, but so filled with gratitude it was painful, “Thank you for doing this for me.”

Dean just shook his head, mulling over the lighter in his hand as he cried. He hurt. Everywhere. His soul hurt. His heart hurt. His body hurt. He had nothing left. He was about to burn the person he loved alive and the angel was fucking _thanking_ him for it. He had so little left. Could feel himself emptying. But it was what Cas needed, wanted, hoped for.

He flicked the lighter and ignited the flame, tried desperately one last time to think of a way out, failed, and dropped the lighter into the pool of holy oil forming underneath the tip of Cas’ nearby wing.

Dean scurried backwards, shielding himself from the sudden intense heat. He’d seen holy oil go up before, but not like _that_. Cas’ wings were both fully engulfed almost instantly but Cas, strong and righteous, managed not to scream. For almost a full minute he made no noise at all despite the look of extreme pain on his face.

But when it came it was worse than inhuman. It was beyond monstrous. It exceeded the profane. The way the angel screamed without respite was the most harrowing thing Dean would ever hear.

Black and grey smoke billowed and crackled up into the ceiling with ash and burning feathers carried with it in all directions. And the flames. The flames weren’t the warm, glowing holy fire of angel traps; they towered above them burning blue and white hit fueled by the sacred grace in Castiel’s wings.

But it was the screaming, the way that he howled in agony that turned Dean to stone. He couldn’t talk, couldn’t move, could hardly breathe.

And then it was over. The flames died down, their fuel diminished, and Dean knew it was all over. He tried to walk towards Castiel needed to see it he was okay, or at least breathing. He needed some semblance of reassurance.

But he was stopped. Cas looked at him gentle, shaking his head. It was all the angel could manage. But Dean couldn’t just leave. Wouldn’t. Cas rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath that Dean couldn’t make out.

What he could make out was the way the warehouse filled with angelic light. But it wasn’t blue the way it was for most angels, it was gold. The next thing he knew, Dean felt like he had been punched in the stomach and was sliding bodily across the hard floor.

The other angel flung him roughly, out the door, and Dean was scrambling back; trying to make it back inside. The last thing he saw before the door slammed in his face were the silhouette of golden wings that he didn’t know and Castiel collapsing bodily into a pool of blood and ash.

“Cas! CAS!!!” Dean banged on the warehouse door, unable to open it; tears still streaming down his face before he just let himself collapse against the door. He stayed there, crying until he was hollow until Sam turned up in the impala a few minutes later. Dean was confused, he hadn’t let Sam know they were done, and he’d arrived quickly, how did he know?

Sam got out of the impala and walked over with a grave expression on his face at Dean’s condition, “oh Dean…Come on, man, let’s get you home…” He bent down to help his mess of a brother up off the ground and they’d made it a while three paces before Dean’s knees buckled and he was hunched over, hurling what little stomach contents he had into the dirt. Sam rubbed his back gently, holding him up as best he could. He wasn’t really surprised, he knew all along what kind of an ordeal this was going to be, “Okay Dean, it’s okay. You’re okay; let’s just get you in the car. I have water, okay?” He ended up practically carrying his older brother to the impala and helped him gingerly into the passenger seat. Dean refused the water he was offered.

Within minutes they were driving off in silence. It took an hour and a half for Dean to say anything, and he refused to look away from the stretch of highway in front of them.

“There was a way out. I realise it now.”

“What?” Sam looked to him, confused.

“I should’ve just killed myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading I hope you'll all stay despite the fact that I may have just broken your hearts more than just a little bit. You'll find tissues, chocolate and ice cream on the table. And I promise the next chapter won't be so depressing. Especially since the next chapter is all about how Sam spent HIS night to bring us all back up to happy! And next time Cas and Dean see each other, Cas will be all healed and forgiven! YAY! 
> 
> Also I got asked to open my tumblr asks, So i did that too :) you can find me here if you want me: https://etherealxen.tumblr.com/


	10. Take Me To Church

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens to Sam during Dean and Cas' awful night? Well, Sam's night is much better and much more enlightening.

Had it been painful when Dean had snapped and told him to go? Yes, of course it had; but Sam understood it more than Dean would know, and more than Cas could comprehend. So yes, it had stung, but the taller Winchester wasn’t letting it bother him as he drove off.

It surprised him when his phone lit up from where he’d tossed it on the passenger sea, so he glanced over and saw Cas’ name. Deciding that there was no rush, he decided to drive around until he found a decent coffee shop.

He found one around 10pm; down the road from a cinema that looked like it had a late showing of an arthouse film that might be interesting. So he sat down, ordered a macchiato, and read Castiel’s message.

From: Castiel  
Sam, it may be long night head. By way of entertainment I suggest you attend Saint Michael’s Cathedral at 1am. Do not announce yourself, just enter. The door is always unlocked. But I suggest not arriving empty handed. There is a 24-hour deli two blocks over that never disappoints. Arrive at exactly 1am or you may miss it.   
\- Cas.

Cryptic. But okay. Sam googled the church on his phone. It was an old style catholic cathedral as far as he could tell. All stone, wrought iron, and stained glass. Beautiful certainly, but he couldn’t find any information whatsoever that made him think that they held any kind of all night events or entertainment there. Even so, Cas clearly wanted him to go there for a reason. So he finished his coffee and went in search of a random 24 hr deli near a random catholic church in the middle of the night as instructed by an angel of the lord. It would almost be comical on any other night.

The deli turned out to be a small, hole-in-the-wall kind of place. But surprisingly popular. And Polish. Even at midnight when Sam arrived there was a reasonable line for the limited products on same. There were more being made but when Sam got to the counter there wasn’t much readily on offer. He took what was there and made his way to Saint Michael’s as instructed.

He arrived at the stone steps at 12:56 and as he ascended couldn’t help the feeling that he was being sent on some weird and obscure videogame sidequest that would end up absolutely pointless. But he didn’t stray from his instructions. Without knocking he carefully turned the iron handle and opened the sizable wooden door and stepped inside quietly.

The moment he was in the Narthex and was cautiously closing the door behind him Sam could hear the beginnings of music. While music in a cathedral was in no way out of place in of itself, Sam was pretty confident that the way an ensemble of electric guitars bellowed our at exactly 1am sure as hell was.

He was made certain of the unusual nature of the musical number as he started walking silently forward into the Nave, his footfalls dampened by the carpet between the pews. He couldn’t see any guitars or musicians at all. All he could see was a small priest who stood far ahead in the crossing facing towards the Apse. The priest was making gestures to each side as if plucking at invisible strings. Sam watched curiously, he could hear the guitars in the air around him changing tune as the priest manipulated the air.

“Mmm…there we go.” The priest spoke and Sam froze. Two things had suddenly hit him, what the figure ahead of him was doing; tuning some kind of invisible accompaniment to different notes to suit him; and more importantly, Sam realised who the priest before him truly was.

He nearly dropped the takeout bag he was carrying. Now that he’d realised he didn’t understand how ht hadn’t immediately noticed. His vessel hadn’t changed at all. He was the same as he’d always been. And suddenly Sam knew. The mystery angel, the laughter in the background on the phonecall. It had all been him.

Gabriel stomped, clapped, then snapped his fingers in a rhythm that Sam found all too familiar, lifted his face to the raised ceiling as thunderous sound broke out throughout the cathedral,

 _“Reach out and touch faith!_ ”

The hunter found the song choice terribly ironic; especially since he had prayed to the archangel before him so many times before and every time they had gone unanswered. Always, Sam had been sure, been unheard. He started walking forward again as Gabriel started in on the first verse. It was the strangest thing, Sam could feel far more in the music and Gabriel’s voice than just the basics of the tone and vibrations that made up music. He realised that there was more to this than the angel simply doing some super-powered kareoke, but he was engrossed, entranced, enthralled. He couldn’t look away. It felt like Gabriel was singing for him despite clearly being completely oblivious to his presence.

_“Feeling unknown and you’re all alone,_   
_Flesh and bone by the telephone,_   
_Lift up the receiver,_   
_I’ll make you a believer…”_

_‘I was,’_ Sam thought, mindlessly depositing the bag of deli goods on a passing pew, _‘I believed. I believed in you; of all the angels it was you I had faith in…’_

_“Take second best_   
_Put me to the test,_   
_Things in your chest you need to confess,_   
_I will deliver, you know I’m a forgiver…”_

The angel reached to his left, tightly curling his fingers in a part fist, Sam heard the guitars in the accompaniment squeal as Gabriel lifted off the floor,

_“Reach out and touch Faith!!”_

He reached to the right and did the same, the accompaniment screeching louder and the angel lifting higher. He almost looked flike he was lifting himself up painfully with barbed or razor wire, but Sam couldn’t see anything, Gabriel had no injuries, and he had no pain. Quite the opposite, what little Sam could see of his face looked to be in bliss.

 _“Reach out and touch faith!_ ”

Sam’s eyes widened and he continued his way forward, inching closer without thinking. He didn’t want to disturb the performance that both was and wasn’t for him. In the distance his brain was telling him to leave; to turn and run. This wasn’t for him and he should just get the hell out. But he couldn’t look away.

Mid air, Gabriel was engrossed in a way he hadn’t been on the ground. There was more power in his voice; Sam couldn’t just feel it now, he could hear the screeching of angel power at the edge of his brain in concert with the squall of the guitars. And And Gabriel was all but writhing and contorting through the chorus.

It wasn’t that Sam thought the angel didn’t, or couldn’t, sing; of course he did. Categorically, angels were a choir and one of the most basic ways of how they communed with each other was through song. But the hunter had never heard an angel sing. He had always thought it would be pious hymns and gospels. Not..not this. Not raw. Not desperate.

When Sam made it to the crossing, Gabriel was almost folded backwards on himself. His arms were spread wide, his fingers curled back harshly; and he was arched back so far that his dusky blonde hair was almost tickling the toes of the black boots he wore. And still he sang. Raw, beautiful, thunderous, and fulled with terrible power.

_“Reach out and touch faith!!!”_

And Sam couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t resist it. Couldn’t help himself, the temptation was too great. The performance and the power too spectacular. He stepped closer, his eyes wide with awe and reverence, and did as the archangel commanded.

He reached out.

As soon as Sam’s fingertips touched Gabriel’s the music stopped, the power changed from exultant to vengeful and the archangel whipped around in mid-air to face him, eyes burning with a furious golden glow and his spare hand already raised; poised and ready to snap the intruder into oblivion. It took more effort than Sam would like to admit to just keep a grip on Gabriel’s hand as he’d spun.

“…Sam?” Shock, relief, then fear flickered across Gabriel’s face in quick succession and the hunter barely had enough time to realise that the angel was about to run before springing into action.

“No! No, don’t you dare!” He yanked down hard on Gabriel’s arm, grounding him, and grabbed his free wrist as the angel fought to balance himself, “Don’t you run away on me.”

Gabriel glared at Sam, matching his bitch-face with amazing skill. They both knew that even with the small amount of skin-to-skin contact between them; hand to wrist on one hand and fingers still entwined on the other, Gabriel couldn’t fly or snap out of there without taking Sam with him.

“Why are you here?” Gabriel asked, an annoyed tone in his voice as he pulled his gaze away from Sam’s and instead looked the hunter over in that special way a person did when they were looking for weaponry.

“I…actually,” Sam smiled, cleared his throat and chuckled lightly. He put on his most terrible polish accent, unable to keep himself from making the joke, “I have the kielbasa you ordered.”

It didn’t receive the response he’d hoped for. Though Sam found it absolutely hilarious it served only to make Gabriel’s glare deepen.

“Don’t patronize me, Samuel.”

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, “I’m serious, I was told to come at one, and to not turn up empty handed. The all night polish place was recommended. I have Kielbasa and pirogi, to be specific.” He looked over his shoulder at the rows of pews, unsure of where he put down the bag he had brought with them. He cleared his throat in embarrassment, a pink flush coming to his cheeks,

“I uh,” He said quietly, “I can’t really remember where I put them down though. I was a bit…”

“Enraptured?” Gabriel finished the sentence without missing a beat and gave Sam a sideways look as he nodded.

“Yeah,” the hunter agreed, “that’s a good word for it.”

Gabriel scoffed and shook his head, the unimpressed look on his face not improving, “There are _reasons_ that humans are not meant to see angels in song; and _that_ is only _one_ of them.” He scolded, as if it had been Sam’s idea. “You said dear brother mine told you to come here?”

“Yeah, he texted me.” Sam finally went to release the archangel in his grip but hesitated before Gabriel nodded that he wouldn’t fly off somewhere.

Taking out his phone Sam showed Gabriel the text that he’d received from Castiel before he stepped away to find the food he’d brought.

“He didn’t tell you I was here?” Gabriel asked, he was still clearly annoyed but the way in which he was annoyed had changed; and when Sam shook his head he was rounded on again from a new angle; “He could have been leading you into anything, and you just showed up without any weapon at all? Are you insane?”

It was a strange turn and Sam couldn’t help but shake his head. Finally he found the bag he’d deposited and walked back up the aisle.

“So let me get this right. You’re pissed I’m here at all, but you’re also pissed because I showed up without a big enough arsenal to kill you?” Sam handed Gabriel the bag with a sigh and shrugged non-committally, “We have some spare angel blades and a grenade launcher in the car; I can go get them if it would make you feel better?”

“What? No!” Gabriel moved to one of the front pews and sat down, waiting for Sam to follow and sit at his side before continuing, “you just aren’t meant to know I’m around.”

“Why?” Sam didn’t understand, he really didn’t, “No one is looking for you. Cas knows you’re alive, he’s clearly done a pretty good job of keeping it from us all these years but…Why can’t we know that you’re okay and just leave you alone?”

“Firstly,” Gabriel snapped a fork into his hand and opened the first takeaway container, the kielbasa, sliced himself a piece with the side of the fork and went to eat it, “Wait, before I eat this, is there any expectation of sex associated with his most divine of sausages? Just feel like I should check, you know, all things considered.”

There he was, the Gabe that Sam knew. Ready and willing with the innuendo and double entendres.

“Not today.” Sam smiled. Not missing a beat Gabriel popped the sausage piece in his mouth and continued,

“As I was saying,” The archangel went on, “do you really think your big bro would leave me be? He _hates_ me. More than you ever have, which is weird because if anyone on this forsaken Earth should hate me, it’s you. He popped another piece of sausage into his mouth and kept going before Sam could interrupt, “And secondly, I haven’t been alive ‘all this time’. It’s been less than six months. Castiel brought me back with him from The Empty.”

“…You really were dead.” Sam said sadly, “You’d tricked us into thinking you were dead before, so I hoped…”

“I know, Sammy.” Gabriel sighed and looked forward toward the Apse, “The Empty may be a void, but you still hear prayers and you still dream.” He shrugged, “After a while you do, anyway. Not at first unless the prayers are really powerful.”

Gabriel shrugged again as if it wasn’t important and offered Sam a piece of Kielbasa. The hunter took it and his eyes lit up the moment it touched his tastebuds.

“Oh my god.”

“Right?” Gabriel grinned widely, “I don’t know what is in their recipe, but there’s a reason they have a line a block long at three in the morning.” Gabriel took another bite and savoured it, “I secretly suspect cocaine, but don’t tell Cas.”

Sam laughed at that, “Oh the lecture you’d get! Something about the danger of human vices, probably.”

“I Don’t think Cas has the expertise to give _me_ a lecture on that subject.”

Sam couldn’t exactly argue but they both fell silent as their thoughts moved to the angel. It began to drag on until Gabriel spoke again,

“Do you think Dean can do it?” Gabriel asked suddenly and all Sam could do was shake his head with a complete lack of surety.

“It’s Cas.” He replied simply and somehow that seemed enough, but he tried to clarify anyway, “Dean can probably do anything for Cas at the end of the day. Cas could ask damn near anything of he and he would drop everything to do it. But this? This is hurting Cas directly, and I think it will be too much.”

“He will do anything for live, but he won’t do that?”

“Thanks, Meatlof.” Sam chuckled but stopped when he saw the grave look on Gabriel’s face, “wait…this is a bigger deal than we realise, isn’t it?”

Gabriel put down the remaining food and turned to Sam, and in that moment Sam saw something he had never seen before in Gabriel’s eyes. He saw his age, his wisdom; he really wasn’t having a light-hearted conversation anymore.

“How much do you understand, Sam, really?”

So Sam explained everything he knew. From Gabriel’s notes, from his memories, what little there was from the lore. Somehow it was easier talking to Gabriel about it. Whether it was because, like himself he wasn’t directly involved in the situation, or because he could add insight and information, Sam didn’t know; nor did he particularly care. But it felt good to get everything out and the way Gabe nodded along made him feel like he wasn’t too far off in his understanding as well. So that helped. But then Gabriel threw something at him that he had no idea what to do with.

“Okay, that’s pretty good, Sammy. Now tell me what you understand about the Willful Angels.”

“…I’ve never heard of the ‘Willful Angels’…” Sam said, wracking his brain to try and find some tiny sliver of information. But there was nothing. His brow furrowed like he was unsure whether Gabriel was pulling some kind of new prank on him in revenge for interrupting him while in song earlier. But Gabriel nodded in understanding.

“Okay, this whole thing is _such_ a big deal because Castiel is one of the Willful Angels.” Gabriel explained, “There aren’t many left, but basically store story goes that once upon a time my Daddy decided that angels should have a go of free will like you lot have.”

“Wait, what?” Sam was taken aback, “There are angels with free will? Like…real free will?”

“Not exactly,” Gabriel corrected, “There is _an_ angel with true free will.” He pointed to himself and Sam’s eyes widened with realisation.

“Ooooh, that makes _so_ much sense…”

Gabriel nodded knowingly before continuing, “After I was…upgraded, for lack of a better word, my grace was used as a model for the other Willful Angels. But they only have partial free will.”

“Why? If it can be done, why not give it in full?” Gabriel smiled at him, the expression more endearing than usual and Sam couldn’t help but wonder why,

“Because of Michael, and because of me, and because of expiation.” Gabriel said after the smile had faded, “I had done something to him; I don’t even remember what, except that it was in response to his tormenting the early humans as he _always_ did. I got sick of it and did…something petty that I found hilarious at the time. He demanded my wings…and I refused.”

“You refused?”

“I refused. I didn’t reject him, I refused the ritual outright and refused to take part in it altogether. I did, in factm laugh in his face and walked off after telling him that he deserved it. He went to Dad and Dad said that because I had true free will I couldn’t be forced. Michael never got my wings, never had his satisfaction. But to appease him, Daddy dearest destroyed the handful of free will seraphs that he’d already made and started on making the Willful Angels instead. Seraphs like Cas who can choose and have all the benefits of free will, but more than double the downsides of it. Plus there are extra rules from Dad, not Heaven - Dad directly, for the Willful to follow.”

“So there are different rules for angels like Cas than there are for your random everyday Seraph?”

“Basically, yeah.” Gabriel said, clearly glad that Sam had cottoned on so quickly, “but where the rules mostly differ is punishment.”

“Like how you had to edit the list?” Sam asked. But Gabriel looked away awkwardly, “Gabriel, what aren’t you telling me?”

“The list is bullshit.” Gabriel said too quickly, forcing it out before he could stop himself, “Well…it is and it isn’t. Everything in the list is true, and Cas feels guilt for it, and the act of confession will help with that. But tonight? The expiation? That is _only_ about what happened in that motel room. _Only_ that and _nothing_ else. We just knew that there was no way it would happen if you two knew that; and it’s not a fault of anyone. It’s just an interspecies difference.”

“So you lied?”

“Yes, we lied.”

“Why?” Sam was confused, “I can’t get my head around it! What happened in that motel room…Cas pinned Dean to a wall - not the first time - talked to him, and stormed out! I don’t understand!”

“He used his knowledge of Dean’s soul to gain leverage over him and abused his position. He used Dean’s soul against him.”

“You’ve met my brother,” Sam scoffed, “How else is anyone meant to meaningfully communicate with him, if they don’t read his mind?” Gabriel couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

“While your point is both valid and true,” he said through a smirk, “it’s not allowed for Willful Angels. If Heaven found out it happened and went unpunished they’d kill him. But if _Dad_ found out…” The archangel shuddered and Sam grew curious.

“Gabe, what would your Dad do if Dean can’t go through with this?”

Gabriel was quiet for some time, debating whether or not to tell Sam at all. But in the end he couldn’t keep it from him. And besides, the risk was so small. It had been eons since the last time and his father was off who knew where anyway…

“For the biggest since against humans, like interfering with their will, using their soul against them, manipulating them romantically into inter-species mate-pairs they wouldn’t normally be in and taking them from their soul mates…those kinds of abuses of power; for non-Willful Angels there’s no real consequence. They might be removed from earth but free will, or even a portion of it, brings the capacity for emotion. So really those angels just don’t have the capacity to understand that it’s wrong to use their knowledge of a human’s soul, or that they shouldn’t split soul mates because they want to have a human in their own bed for a night. They have no real concept of the problem and no tangible consequence for the action.   
But Willful Angels do. With their free will comes their capacity to love and adore and empathise and all kinds of other crap. They can comprehend and have the capacity to know and do far better so they receive punishment…by dismantling…”

“…Dismantling…”

“Yep…” Gabriel nodded sadly, not looking at Sam, “Not killed. Their grace gets put in a jar and the rest…the rest of their parts are put away in case they can be repurposed in the end…”

“And you?”

“What about me?” Gabriel looked to Sam, who was facing him now with a concerned expression on his face.

“What about your rules, your punishments?” Gabriel smiled at him reassuringly.

“I have none. I’m a law unto myself.”

“That’s both reassuring and terrifying.” Sam couldn’t help but smile.

“Enough of all this! Let’s do something fun!” Gabriel stood up, clearly the time for questions was over. But Sam was more than grateful for the information he’d received. A box appeared in Gabriel’s hands and he held it up for Sam to see, “I challenge you, Winchester, to a game of wits and excitement.”

“Gabriel, that’s Pie Face.” Sam laughed.

“Oh, come on!” Sam shrugged and followed Gabriel to a space on the floor in the crossing.

They spent the next few hours together laughing, playing games, and avoiding talking about anything serious as much as they possibly could. They ate various foods that Gabriel snapped up for them and whenever they tired of one game, the archangel simply conjured up another.

Sam hadn’t been able to just relax and be silly with someone like that in a long time. So long that he couldn’t really even place in his mind when the last time was. After Pie Face they played Ice Breaker, Cards Against Humanity, Pictionary, and Gloom. They stayed the hell away from monopoly.

“You really haven’t changed at all.” Sam said as it approached five in the morning. He was trying to take the archangel through some of the finer points of Munchkin before they started paying, but Gabriel kept interrupting with silly questions.

“No,” the archangel admitted, looking Sam over a little sadly, “But the rest of the world has. Just look at how tall you are, I didn’t leave you that way.”

Sam shook his head and looked down at the cards and game pieces strewn across the cathedral floor, “I’m _glad_ you haven’t changed, Gabriel.”

The archangel opened his mouth to say something but faltered, his attention snagging on something elsewhere. His eyes moved down to the side as he focused and the colour quickly drained from his face.

“Time to go, Sammy.”

“Wait, what?” Sam sat in confusion as Gabriel quickly got to his feet and waved away the evidence of their games and frivolity.

“We have to go,” Gabriel repeated, grabbing one of Sam’s arms and pulling him up off the floor with far more ease than a human of his stature could manage, “Cas just prayed to me and we have to get moving now.”

“Are they done?” Sam pulled out his phone. No word from Dean.

“No,” Gabriel sounded grave as he started pushing Sam down the aisle towards the door, “Dean couldn’t get it done.” The words sunk into Sam’s brain and he turned to Gabriel.

“No that means he’ll -”

“They’re about to turn my little brother into a holy bonfire.” Gabriel cut him off before reaching a hand up to touch Sam’s face gently. The hunter felt the warmth of grace run through him unexpectedly. He suddenly felt well rested, refreshed, and full of energy.

“Gabe?”

“Get you both home safely and quickly, Sammy.” And then Gabriel was gone, vanished into the ether. Sam didn’t miss a beat, he ran and burst outside into the pre-dawn. Thankful that he hadn’t walked those two blocked from the Polish deli and that the impala was only meters away. He leapt into the driver’s seat and hoped that he would make it to the warehouse without Dean having to be left alone for too long.

Gabriel would already be there, watching now to make sure that things didn’t go wrong. To ensure Cas’ survival. That made San feel better at least, but Dean didn’t know. He had no idea that they were being looked out for by an archangel.

And Dean, he’d tried. He must have tried. The sun was coming up and they had only just resorted to the holy fire then. How far had he gone? Had he just spent the whole night trying to convince Cas to let it go? Or had he physically tried to go through with it?

Sam got his answer as he pulled up outside the warehouse. Dean was sitting against the metal door covered in ash, blood, and dust. He looked hollow and in pain and he was openly crying.

“Oh, Dean…” Sam walked over and bent to help his brother up, “Come on, man, let’s get you home.” He’d seen a similar look on Dean once before; back when they were teens and Dean made his first kill of something that looked too human. He knew what was coming and in a few short steps he felt Dean’s lets give out and tightened his hold as his brother vomited bile and stomach acid into the dirt. Sam kept up his reassuring words and all but carried Dean to the impala.

He offered water. It was refused. As they drove through town he offered coffee. Dean said nothing. There was no response to food, drink, music, or rest stops. All Dean did was stare absently ahead until finally,

“There was a way out, I realise it now.”

“What?”

“I should’ve just killed myself.”

Sam was quiet for a few moments before responding. He needed to make things clear for his brother, but Dean’s head really wasn’t in the space for the conversation.

“Dean…” He started delicately, “That wouldn’t have helped. Not really. All that would have achieved would be that you’d be dead. Cas would still be unforgiven and unable to forgive himself; and worse, he’d blame himself. He’d think that he had driven you to suicide. Think about what that would do to him.”

Dean returned to whatever dark space he was living in inside his mind, going silent once more as his eyes glazed over.

Sam realised that his brother was lost to him again and turned his attention back to the long road before him, deeply thankful for whatever Gabriel had done to him. He didn’t feel that he would need a break for a long while. Had he thanked him back at the church? He couldn’t remember. He should thank him. Cas had prayed to him so praying to him directly was safe, right?

Silently, internally, Sam prayed.

_‘I pray to thee Gabriel, Archangel of the Lord, Pagan God of Mischief, and, at times, major pain in the ass. Thank you. Thank you for rejuvenating me, for making me laugh during a time when I would otherwise have failed to do so. Thank you for not running. Thank you for the kielbasa.’_

He glanced at Dean who was still a staring husk before continuing silently,

_‘I don’t know the condition of your brother; but mine’s not doing so good. You keep Cas safe, alive, and healing. You make sure he gets back to us. And I’ll make sure Dean is still here for him to come back to._   
_And you know, it would be cool if you came by too. I still have to teach you Munchkin. But I won’t tell Dean it was you. Not ‘til I have your say so.’_

“Amen.” Sam mumbled it but Dean looked over all the same, “Nothing, just wishing Cas a speedy recovery.” Sam’s lie was flawless and Dean barely nodded his acknowledgment before turning away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincere apologies for the wait between the last chapter and this one! This Chapter ended up a bit longer than I meant it to be and life picked a really inopportune time to get in the way... 
> 
> *puts on voice over voice* Next Time on Nowhere to Hide, Nowhere to Run; Cas and Dean will be reunited - what will happen? WHAT WILL HAPPEN???
> 
> Seriously though; I would like some input. Not so much for next chapter, but I'm a little undecided on some of the intricacies of what should happen when FINALLY our boys fall into bed in a flurry. So, cast your votes! Who wants top!dean? Who wants Bottom!Dean? or bottoming-from-top!dean? I'm easy, so are they, because I'm writing them. Tell me what you want! 
> 
> The usual yadda: not beta read. blah. whatev. 
> 
> headcannon update: 
> 
> The Willful Angels - The idea presented here about the Willfull Angels is mostly my own. BUT it does have some history. In various things (not just spn) angels are generally depicted as not having free will, and we probably all remember some discussions back in season 4/5 era about choice and the whole problem of choosing for Cas; and then later with Naomi about how he had always been so much trouble for his choices. Therefore he's generally pretty willful. "But!" I hear you say, "Lucy rebelled against god and you haven't included him as willful!" Ah! I have an explanation for that too! Because you cannot always choose your thoughts and emotions. And angels still feel, but very deeply, and you cannot command someone to love another; not even Chuck. And Lucy could not love humanity before himself and the other angels, it wasn't that he defied or chose not to, it's that it was a command made against an emotion and the fault lay (imo) with Chuck. Whereas Gabriel, with his idgaf attitude towards everything clearly has true free will. 
> 
> Angels In Song - The Angels a choir, they can sing. But no one has ever heard them sing! Why not? I figure there must be reasons for this and those reasons are probably something along the lines of it being too divine for human eyes, or too personal or something. But I wanted Sam to witness it with Gabriel, even if with some coaxing, since unlike the other angels Gabriel feels things in the way humans do, so he would feel the music as a human would; while needing it to complete him in the way an angel would. Thus why it is such a raw and powerful thing for him. It might come up again later, I'm not sure yet.   
> Another Note:
> 
> Saint Michael's Cathedral. Is there one in California? I dunno. I didn't actually check. There are cathedrals everywhere and many of them are called Saint Michael's, so the odds are there may be several. But at the time I first wrote it in, this was still basically a drabble and I didn't actually care (true fact, I was just scribbling) so I didn't bother to research whether such a church existed. But I DID want to use a proper cathedral layout, so if you would like a point of reference as to the terms used and the shape of the cathedral as it appears in this chapter and for future reference; it is a 'Latin Cross' style cathedral.


	11. Everything Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is depressed after what happened in the warehouse, time passes, and he and Cas reunite. Some comfort happens.

The first few days were the worst. In the first 24 hours Sam couldn't get his brother to eat or drink anything. And when they finally made it back to the bunker Dean couldn't could barely bring himself to get out of the car. He was still covered with blood and grime; they hadn't stopped at all on the way back. Whatever magic Gabriel had worked on Sam had really sped up their trip home. Sam didn't bother to unpack the car, but he did need to think about unpacking his brother. 

He opened the passenger door and knelt down to Dean's level and spoke gently,

"Dean, we're home." Dean looked to him and it was like he finally registered where they were, "Let me help you inside, okay? Let's get you cleaned up." 

The older Winchester let himself be helped and led into the bunker and to the shower room. Dean was suddenly faced with a view of himself in a full-length mirror, one of many, as Sam stepped away to get towels. 

He saw the way the blood had stuck his hair together and crusted over his skin. His skin which was so pale and gaunt from the past few days. His clothes were stained with blood, oil, and grace. Had Sam been able to see the grace? The way it sparkled blue amongst all the gore? Dean didn't know. It didn't matter. It looked like he'd been slaughtering an army of angels all night and not just one. And all of it was under a cakey layer of first and dust from being tossed, dragged, and rolled through the white gravel outside the warehouse. 

Sam returned and put a kind hand on Dean's trembling shoulder, leading him away and towards a shower bay.

"You'll feel better once you're clean." Sam was saying, but Dean wasn't sure 'better' was something he'd be able to feel again; clean or otherwise. But he listened anyway and started peeling off his clothes as Sam started running the water. He knew better than to ask for privacy just then. Sam wouldn't leave him in his mental state anyway, and he wasn't convinced that he wouldn't either pass out in the shower or try to drown himself somehow if left to his own thoughts.

So, not for the first time, one of them ran the water while the other wallowed in self-pity. After a few moments Sam stepped back and nodded to the bay.

"In, and if you need a hand let me know." Dean simply nodded and entered while Sam took a seat on one of the stands they usually used for putting towels. It might not have been the first time they were in this position, but this time it was different. So different. It came as no surprise to Sam when he heard dry heaving coming from inside the stall, or that he ended up being the one to scrub the core from his brother's hair as he wept. 

Once they had gotten him clean, Dean barely made it to his room before he was lilting to the side, depending on Sam to keep him moving. They made it, got Dean into some boxers, and into bed before he passed out. But only barely. 

With a sigh Sam looked around the room, his work wasn't yet done. The first thing he went for was the alcohol, removing the bottles from Dean's shelf and stashing them somewhere safe. Next he took down the mounted knives and guns from the wall and relocated them to the armory; locking it firmly and adding the key to his personal keys. Then he ransacked the room while Dean slept. Anything even remotely sharp or dangerous came out with him. He knew Dean would give him hell for it later, but after getting this far he wasn't going to lose his brother an alcohol-fueled, self-inflicted shooting, stabbing, or poisoning.

It took a week and a half for Dean to leave his room. And when he did, it was in search of food. Real food. Real bacon cheeseburger with fries and pie for dessert, artery clogging, Dean Winchester signature food. He was still deeply depressed and couldn't look Sam in the eye or speak quite at a normal volume. But at least his instincts were starting to come back online. 

Four days after that he was spending more time out of his room than in it; but could still only manage partial conversations. 

It wasn't until they'd been holed up in the bunker for six weeks straight that Dean seemed, at least outwardly, like he could function normally. He was hiding it okay, but they both knew that he wasn't half as far far back mentally as he was pretending to be. He had even told Sam to keep the sharps and booze away a while longer. That was new , Sam had thought, he didn't even trust himself, even with the clarity he'd regained. 

 _'Yep,'_ Sam thought ruefully,  _'Dean's hit rock bottom.'_

They hadn't heard from Cas, and Sam hadn't heard from Gabriel. It had been six weeks and nothing. They had known that hearing from Cas while he was hearing would be unlikely, but they'd still hoped from some reassurance that he was alright. And once Sam knew that Gabriel was involved he'd thought for a moment that the archangel would take pity on them and let them know how Cas was doing; but apparently not. Sam had even prayed to him a few times but gotten no response. 

They'd known that it might take Cas a while to recover but as they were starting to approach the two month mark with no word it was becoming worrying and stressful. Not to mention they had never really been off hunting so long together. They kept getting called for help or with info for possible cases in the area. 

"You should go," Dean was saying over lunch after yet another call about a witch a couple of towns over, "you'll be gone a couple of days tops. I'll be fine, those people won't." 

"But Dean..." Sam tried to protest, but in the end Dean and reason won out. Dean was fairly safe at the bunker and he was over the worst of his depressive episode. Or at least he seemed to be. And Sam still had the armory key on him anyway and would be taking it with him, Dean wouldn't be able to get to any of the big toys while he was gone. So they came to an arrangement that Sam would go and be back in no more than 72 hours and that Dean would check in with him by text, with photos included, every few hours as proof that he was still breathing. 

It wasn't ideal, but it would work. 

Dean watched Sam drive off in the impala before letting his forced smile fall. He wasn't okay to be on his own, he knew that, but fucking witches. Other people needed Sam more than he did; he could cope for 72 hours. He could. He definitely could. Sammy would not come back to find him a whimpering mess. Or dead. Nope, there would be none of that. 

But he didn't know what to do with himself. He hadn't been able to make himself do much of anything since the warehouse - he refused to call the expiation ritual by name, and tried to think about it at all - he had been avoiding the library; not wanting to look at lore about things that might be violent or gory or make him think about the way Castiel's blood had felt in his hair or the way his jeans had burned blue when he'd chosen to incinerate his clothes from that night instead of salvage them.

Sam hadn't been able to see the stains made from Cas' grace, it turned out, and he had been confused about the heat of the incinerator until Dean explained. All it did for Dean was remind him of how quickly Castiel had burned and the noises he'd made. 

Maybe he should set himself on fire. That seemed reasonable. After all, it was all about equitable punishment, right? There was nothing equitable about where they stood now.

But where  _did_ they even stand now? He didn't know. Didn't have a clue. And wouldn't until Cas decided to maybe walk back into his life. Was that even a certainty? There was the expectation, but was Cas obligated to come back? Could he decide that enough was enough and just go? 

Dean had been standing in the garage staring at where the impala had been for nearly an hour before he realised that he'd returned to that dark place inside his head. Swearing under his breath he made his way back to his room. He'd watch a movie, that was safe. Maybe he'd fall asleep, but that was mostly safe too except for the nightmares. He chose something light. A comedy with little physical humour. He couldn't really get into it given his mood, and in the end he did end up falling asleep. 

~~~

When Dean woke, hours later, he was facing his desk and through his post-sleep fog he noticed that his laptop sat closed, neatly placed upon it. The laptop that he had previously had set up on the bed and been using to watch the movie. He stopped breathing. His blood felt cold. Someone had been in the bunker, was possibly still there, had been in his room; and he was alone and weaponless. He was feeling weak and vulnerable to begin with, what if it was someone skilled? What if it was more than one intruder? He wasn't prepared for this, he wasn't prepared to defend himself. HE armory was locked and the key with Sam. He couldn't cope. He was about to panic. And then he heard a voice from the corner of the room.

From  _that_ corner. And he heard  _that_ chair creak as he shifted. 

"Dean, are you alright?" Cas' voice washed over him and Dean was afraid to roll over and look in case he was hallucinating. But the relief was too  much and tears started streaming from his eyes.

"...Dean?" Concern and confusion filled Castiel's voice and Dean heard him rise quickly from where he sat, "I knew Sam was concerned but...but I didn't realise..." The angel came into view and knelt beside the bed, reaching out a hand to grasp Dean's shoulder as if trying to steady him as he broke down. 

He looked so normal and Dean couldn't bear it. There was no pain on his face, there were no burn marks from where rogue flames had consumed him. He looked the same as he always had, Inhumanly blue eyes and unblemished skin with a touch of constant confusion at Dean's particular brand of the human condition. The hunter couldn't bear to look at him and pulled his hands up to cover his own face. 

He shook violently, struggling to breathe evenly and unable to stop crying. Not knowing what else to do, Castiel clambered onto the bed and wrapped both his arms around his human, hoping it was enough to calm him down. The angel didn't say anything more, didn't try to run his back or do any of those things another human might do to try and be comforting. He knew that would be pushing things too far, that Dean would find it condescending. But he had to do  _something._

Seeing how broken Dean was just hurt too much to do nothing. 

Eventually the tears came to a stop and Dean let his hands fall from his face. He still couldn't stand to meet Cas' gaze but he let himself snuggle in closer, grasping one hand into the folds of that familiar trenchcoat, the other twisting in the angel's tie. He felt Cas' face relax into his hair with a satisfied sigh.

"...I didn't think you'd come back..." Dean choked out, his voice catching despite being barely above a whisper.

"If I didn't intend to return, I wouldn't have put either of us through it, Dean." Castiel replied gently, "Especially not you. I'd have suffered my guilt and consequences gratefully." 

Dean didn't know whether to believe him and it was as if the angel could sense his hesitation,

"Would it help for you to see my wings?"

Dean clung tighter to the angel and started shaking his head vigorously.

"No, no, no, no, no...I can't...not all burnt up and mangled..." Dean was ranting; images forcing their way into his mind for the thousandth time of how Cas' wings must look after what he did; how could he not be permanently maimed? "I can't handle seeing what I've done to you..." 

"Dean, Dean..." Cas tried to still him, his strong hands working over Dean's shoulders and then moving to the hunter's face. He forced Dean to look at him, meeting his frantic, emotional expression with one filled with calm understanding, "Dean, my wings are fine. I wouldn't be here if they weren't. I couldn't be here if they weren't, _I flew here."_

"...You...you flew?" Dean clearly found that information reassuring and when Castiel nodded he sighed in relief, "You can still fly..."

"I know it's only been a few weeks," Cas explained, as if Dean was worried that it hadn't been long enough, not that Cas would never fly again, "but angel wings heal quite quickly because of the way grace flows through them."

"I thought...I thought it would be like when Metatron..." Dean spoke quietly and left the statement unfinished when he heard Castiel sigh.

"Oh, Dean, no..." Now the angel  _did_ run a hand through Dean's hair, but the hunter didn't seem to mind. Cas wondered if it was his current lacking of a sense of self that made him so amiable to all the physical contact he wouldn't normally be allowing. He'd have to clarify later, "When Metatron caused the fall and destroyed my wings he took the majority of my grace; my wings didn't have the power to heal. Until my return from The Empty my partial grace had me considerably weakened. I am no longer the broken angel I was a year ago - my grace is intact and my wings were always going to recover from this. I'm sorry, I thought I had made it perfectly clear that I would heal."

"You're really okay?" Dean asked after only a short hesitation. 

"I'm okay, Dean." Cas smiled at him gently, "I actually haven't felt so powerful and at peace for years. My only concern now is bringing you back to yourself."

"Got any angel mojo that'll work on that?"" Dean joked and Cas' smile grew slightly.

"No, I wish there was. Are you sure seeing my wings wouldn't help to reassure you that everything is okay?"

"I don't know if everything is okay, Cas."

"What can I do to ease your pain?"

Dean went quiet, thinking. What did he need? After all these long weeks of heartache, anger, loathing, and pain. After years of obsession, adoration, guilt, and frustration; what did he really need? It occurred to him that he had told Cas how he felt that night, Cas had known for years how he felt. And sure, Cas had kissed him in that moment and enjoyed a peep show or few; but he'd never put our there what Dean meant to  _him._

"I need to know what I am to you," Dean said quietly, his hands gripping more tightly in Castiel's clothing as if he might disappear just from being asked, "I need you to tell me how you feel about me. I need to know where I stand after all this." 

Castiel's hand stopped in his hair and suddenly Dean was afraid again. Had he said something wrong again? He usually did, but Cas had asked and at his very base level he needed to know if he was loved even half as much as he loved the angel. 

"...I can't." Cas' voice was full of anguish, "I can't tell you either way unless you approach me first, I'm not allowed to interfere with human relationships like that. And I don't want to take for granted that what you said at the warehouse is still true."

"...You're now allowed to say anything?"

"No...it's an angel thing..."

"You knew all these years but didn't say anything because you weren't allowed?"

"We'd have just ended up in that warehouse for different reasons." Cas explained. Dean's brain felt like mush as he realised, it was possible that he could've been with Cas for years if he'd just gotten over his fear and  _said something._

"Cas, I still love you," The hunter forced out honestly, the most honest he could stand to be given he had absolutely nothing left of himself to give, "I just...I just hate myself more than I love you right now." Castiel smiled sadly in understanding.

"I love you too Dean, and I understand." The angel pulled Dean's face up towards his once again and leaned in, kissing is forehead, then his cheek, but avoiding his lips this time just in case he wasn't ready, "I love you; and I would very much like it if you would stop worrying myself and Sam so much. He truly does think that you may kill yourself over this." 

Dean licked his lips, sighing slightly and how nice it felt to be kissed by Cas in even this capacity, but as he met the angels gaze his eyes were filled with shame. 

"I thought I might've killed you. I couldn't live with myself."

"Well, I'm certainly not dead." Castiel sighed, "My wings are fine, and my grace is intact; and mentally I'm in better condition than I was before all this started.  _I'm_ fine. It just hurts to see you in such torment." 

"I need time, Cas."

"Time? Time I can give. I have all time time in creation." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my boys. *pets Dean* it will all get better honey, don't worry. 
> 
> You all might have noticed that I've been updating tags as I go. I haven't really been mentioning it, but maybe I should? Will be adding hurt/comfort here.
> 
> the usual junk: not beta read. blah. tumblr: https://etherealxen.tumblr.com/


	12. These Wings Will Only Lead to Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finally gets his hands on those fine feathers and things take an unexpected turn.

Sam had been ropeable when he made it back. He'd killed the witch quickly and gunned it back in record time. 

Dean hadn't messaged, hadn't called, hadn't answered his home. He'd been wrapped up in Cas' arms crying and sleeping. Cas had been too afraid to let him go in case the nightmares started again. 

Neither of them had thought of Sam. 

Sam had thought the worst. Of course he had. What else was there for him to think?

And he'd let them both have it. He yelled until he was hoarse. He had almost no voice left and he just kept yelling. 

"I know it's not what you need right now, but-"

"Don't get me wrong Cas, I'm so fucking glad you're okay, but-"

Dean took it all in, absorbing the rage while Cas tried to talk Sam down. It all boiled down very simply to Dean being selfish, as usual. Sam had been taking such good care of him and he hadn't even stopped to think about him. Like always someone was angry at him and Dean shut down. Closing himself off again and just taking the rage he felt he deserved. He could hear Sam yelling, then Cas yelling. It was too much.

"Sam! Sam! Stop, would you just  _stop!_ Look at him!" Cas' voice was thunderous but Sam finally stopped.

Dean had no idea what Sam saw then he took in the sight of him. He was too busy staring at the floor and slowly shutting himself down, bringing his walls back up. But he heard his brother swear.

"Shit...Dean I'm sorry," Sam stepped closer to his brother, all of them standing in the dormitory hallway, "I was just scared, you know?"

Dean made himself nod acknowledgement before he turned away and re-entered his room, slamming the door behind him; leaving Cas and his brother in the hall. 

Castiel sighed, turning to Sam, "I thought you were exaggerating..." Sam looked down and shook his head, speaking quietly,

"You should have seen him when we got back."

"Has he  _actually_ tried anything?"

"No," Sam rubbed a hand over his face tiredly, "I think he would have, but he really hasn't had the energy."

"You should take a break," Cas opened Dean's door without knocking, preparing to re-enter but also to allow Dean ti hear the remainder of the conversation, he didn't want Dean to think they were gossiping about him, "you look stressed; why not take the impala and take a few days? Clear your head?"

Sam chuckled mirthlessly, "Go where? I'm not going to just take a vacation while my brother is in crisis."

Cas smirked at him, "You could always...go to church?"

"Funny," Sam glared, " _he's_ not talking to me either."

"No, that's incorrect," Cas lowered his voice, knowing that Dean still didn't know anything about Gabriel, "He has that town  _covered_ in warding you've never dreamed of Sam; especially the cathedral. You have no idea the measures he's taking to keep himself hidden. He's not going to just  _leave_ because you've prayed to him and want him to pop by and say hi. And maybe, after yelling at your brother to a point where he's withdrawn himself back into his shell, over being selfish and not taking the needs of others into account; you might try to be more mindful and take some of your own advice into account regarding selflessness.

Sam knew he was beaten and Castiel's point was a light slap to his ego that he couldn't deny.

"Valid...on all points..." The tall hunter shoved his hands in his pockets sheepishly,

"Go," Cas nodded down the hallway, his voice returning to normal volume, "you need some respite too. Caring for lived ones can be difficult. I know he'd had enough of me after about three days. And besides, there's an Enochian card game he was talking about teaching you." 

"Angel card games?" Sam perked up immediately and and poked his head into the gap in Dean's doorway, "Did you hear that Dean? Cas is kicking me out for a few days so we can have a break from each other, okay? I won't take the impala, I'll take one of the spares, but if you need me for anything you'll call right? Only 20 odd hours away, right?"

He didn't get a response from Dean but Cas have him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before he made a bee-line for his room to repack his bag. Cas re-entered Dean's room and closed the door, he found the hunter sitting on the edge of his bed feeling sorry for himself.

"He's right. I forgot to get in touch, he was right to freak out."

"It doesn't matter now," Cas said simply, "Don't dwell on it. He knows you're fine, not alone, and now you can both have a break from each other."

Dean nodded and just stared at Castiel for a short while. Taking in his features, his frame, the way he stood... it was long after Sam had knocked and announced he was leaving and still Dean was gently staring at the angel's hair, eyes, trenchcoat...

"Is there something you need, Dean?" Cas asked after the staring had gone on so long that it was even starting to make him uncomfortable. 

"I...I  _do_ wanna see them." Dean said awkwardly, " _if_ they really are okay."

Castiel smiled and moved to stand before him, starting to remove his coat, "Of course, Dean," He said softly, "they are a little more sensitive than usual though, since the feathers are all fresh growth. So I'm afraid I have to remove my shirt if that's okay?"

"That's fine." As if that wasn't going to be fine. Dean had seen Cas shirtless a few times before of course, once or twice when he was human; a handful of times when they were in purgatory and managed to find water clean enough to bathe in. But this time was somehow different. It wasn't awkward exactly, but Cas had a sort of nervousness about him that he hadn't had previously. It wasn't because there were any expectations between them physically; there weren't. Was he self conscious, Dean wondered, about his body? About his wings? Was he worried that Dean wouldn't be satisfied with how his wings were healing?

The room filled with light, Dean was getting used to seeing it now, and Cas brought forward his wings. They were much the same as they had been before, just like Cas had said. The only difference wsa that the feathers looked newer, softer than they had done last time Dean had looked upon them. 

They were still stunning, still beautiful, and there was no sign that they had ever been damaged at all; let alone burned the way they had. 

Dean's eyes widened as he took in Cas' wingspan, and he smiled gently. Castiel had been right, seeing them intact did help him feel better after all.

"They really are like they always were." Dean said happily, unable to stop smiling. 

Cas moved closer to where Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed and knelt before him in an attempt to be more on his level.

"I should really have waited til the feathers had fully grown back in but..." The angel shrugged. Clearly he was close enough to be fully healed for neither him nor the mystery angel to think it would matter, "...would you like to touch them this time?"

Dean's fingers were already itching to do just that and he nodded. Taking the cue on board Cas moved forward into Dean's space, gently pushing the hunter's legs apart to kneel between them. He wanted to keep facing him, able to gauge his expressions and reactions, ensure he didn't push too far; but he couldn't get his wings properly within Dean's reach otherwise. 

"Is this okay?" Cas asked cautiously and he noticed that Dean licked is lips in a way that was all too familiar. It was something that the Winchester did when he couldn't keep his thoughts about Cas and his body pure, no matter how much he tried. But Cas wasn't listening to his thoughts, wasn't listening to his soul. He refused to do any of that. 

"Dean?" He hadn't received an answer but the hunter's breathing pattern had quickened, "I need you to tell me if this is okay,"

"Y-yeah..." Dean cleared his throat and shifted slightly, "yeah, Cas, this is  _definitely_ okay." 

Smiling, Casitel reached out to take Dean's wrist. It was clear that he was too nervous to just start touching, so the angel carefully guided his hand over his shoulder until he felt fingertips in his plumage. 

It sent a jolt through him, not unpleasant, but different to how he remembered it feeling when his wings were touched. His body in general hadn't felt the same since his return. It felt more like an actual body, not a vessel. Like the muscles and nerve-endings were his own, not like he was operating a hollow marionette. And this felt different too. As he let his own hand fall to the bed beside Dean's clothed leg and felt the hunter begin to run his fingers through the fresh feathers, lingering on some more than others; he couldn't just feel it through his wings as he always had. 

He could feel it  _everywhere._ It sent shivers down his spine and heat to his stomach. It had been unexpected and maybe letting Dean touch his wings wasn't such a good idea after all. But it felt good and he wasn't sure he wanted it to stop just yet. 

He let Dean continue and as he explored the angel's wings, life for Castiel seemed to become much more difficult. Dean had been stroking, preening, and exploring the general anatomy of Cas' wings for several long minutes and it was only thanks to the angel's controlled breathing and the hunter's inattention to anything else that he hadn't realised how much of a state he'd gotten Castiel into. 

Until Dean reached toward the base of Castiel's wings. Where they were most sensitive, most filled with grace, most connected to his earthly body. As Dean's exploratory fingers carded through the small, fresh, downy feathers that edged Castiel's skin, the angel couldn't hold back the intensity of his response. 

He shuddered violently, grasping into Dean's jeans on either side of his legs as he groaned loudly, biting his own lip to try and keep the offending sound at bay. And then he just  _squirmed._

But Dean's hand had frozen and his attention had shifted. He looked down at the angel who had now hidden his face in the t-shirt covering Dean's stomach, breathing heavily and trying to calm himself down.

"Cas?" Dean removed his hand from the wing and used it to stroke his angel's hair instead, "When you said 'sensitive' I didn't realise this was what you meant..."

"It wasn't..." Cas panted, "This is new." Dean raised an eyebrow and gently pushed Cas away slightly to meet his gaze, 

"Why didn't you tell me to stop?"

"I didn't want you to." He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and really maybe it was. Dean licked his lips again. He wasn't sure he was ready for more yet. He was still so emotionally fragile; and Cas had only just walked back in the door. They hadn't even established if they were going to actually try to make a go of things. they'd implied it, but nothing had been said.

But there was Cas, kneeling between his legs practically shaking with desire. Dean didn't even understand how he'd managed to hide it to the point he had, his pupils were to dilated that his eyes almost looked black and now that he wasn't trying to keep his breathing under wraps, his chest was heaving. Dean didn't even need to look southward to know there would be be similar delightful scenes going on in Cas' pants if he cared to look. 

Dean had been faced with a lot of temptation in his life, but never had he been so willing to give in to anything as he was when he saw Castiel like that. Dean swallowed hard before licking his lips again,

"What...what do you need Cas?" Castiel's eyes wandered over him hungrily and Dean felt his pants tighten. After several moments of consideration Cas' hands moved from where he gripped the sides of Dean's legs through his jeans and made their way to his belt and ran his fingers along the leather gently.

"If I ask too much, say no." Dean nodded as Castiel's request but when Cas shook his head that it wasn't enough, he spoke.

"Right...verbal. I'll say no if it's too much, Cas. Promise." Smiling at Dean's obedience, Cas gripped the hunter's belt tightly. Dean bucked up into the action, he was getting harder by the moment despite the lack of real contact and the darkness in Castiel's eyes threatened to engulf him. 

"Let me taste you, Dean, please?" Dean was surprised.  _That's_ what his angel wanted? While he was so turned on he couldn't see straight? He could have asked for anything and Dean would have said yes; or maybe he knew that and really didn't want to push too far too fast.

Either way Dean's hand moved to his belt and quickly started working the buckle. Cas batted his hand away starting on it himself. Dean had already realised that Cas was in control, yeah he held the consent, but everything else belonged to Cas. He was was more than okay with that arrangement. 

The angel didn't even pull his jeans down, he was in too much of a hurt. He unzipped and unbuttoned him before slipping a hand inside, letting out an unholy moan when he not only found what he was seeking, but that it was already hard. He shoved Dean's underwear aside just enough to pull out his hardened dick and the hunter had just enough time to register the lust-filled look in Castiel's eyes and the way he licked his lips before he dove down on it, taking it in one go. 

Dean hadn't been ready, and even if he had been, nothing could have prepared him for such a gung-ho deep throating angel. 

"Oh! FUCK!" Dean gripped he head back and groaned, unable to do much else until he regained his bearings slightly. It took several moments, until Cas had found his rhythm and for Dean to fall into it with him; deep satisfied moans leaving his lips with each long swallow.

This was what he needed. He hadn't even known that this was what he needed. That it could be something he  _could_ need. But there it was as he looked down; Castiel, greedily devouring his cock and moaning around him. Drinking him in like he was essential to life. Castiel with his wings outstretched and shuddering with desire, the feathers quaking with every moan. 

Yes, this. This was what he needed. The love of his angel. He would give up everything just for this, for this and anything more the angel wanted. 

Dean groaned and reached out to grasp Cas' hair as the angel sucked on him harder, faster. He was getting close and he wanted Cas to join him in reaching ecstasy, so he reached for his wings. They'd gotten the angel so worked up in the first place, surely they would help get them both over the line in a spectacular fashion.

With one hand pulling Cas' hair and the other grasping, not-so-gently, in that sensitive area where feathers met flesh, Castiel writhed in his pants and practically wailed against Dean's cock as he tried to take it even further. But there was no more to take. Dean kept scratching Cas' back and teasing his feathers until the angel went rigis, coming in his pants as he cried in pleasure around Dean's length. 

Dean came right along with him, the sensations too great and the scene in his lap to sordid and lewd to hold back. He tried to bite back his own moan so that he could hear the shameless sounds still coming from his partner as he swallowed down his salty reward.

Cas sighed blissfully when he finally pulled back, his wings drooping. He looked far more spent than he should for giving a blow job. But, Dean thought, he  _had_ given it just fervor. After a few moments of staring at each other in which Dean couldn't think of any words to say, Cas looked down, still catching his breath.

"Apologies, I don't know what came over me."

Dean moved in a split second, grabbing Cas' face and shoulder as he pulled him in to kiss him deeply. He waited for the surprise to pass and for Cas to relax against him before pulling away. 

"Don't apologise. Not for that.  _Never_ for that. And whatever came over you can come over you anytime; holy fuck."

Castiel chuckled,

"There was  _nothing_ holy about that, Dean Winchester."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those wings man, they're only leading to trouble. But at least they FINALLY got some!!! *throws confetti* 
> 
> tag updates happening for this chapter will be around wing play, wing kink, oral sex. 
> 
> usual blah: not beta read. tumblr: https://etherealxen.tumblr.com/


	13. Another Kind of Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas get intimate in the library and Dean learns that Cas is a very dual-natured kind of creature.

Castiel wouldn't let his wings back out. No matter how many times Dean asked. And he was definitely asking, not begging or whining like the angel was trying to say. 

He felt bad about what had happened, said that he had 'fallen into his basal instincts' whatever that meant. Dean thought he'd simply scared himself. He had barely been able to think, Cas had explained to him, and that had meant dangerous things. 

Dean thought it sounded delicious. 

But it wasn't until Cas approached him with those wings safely tucked away in that other plane that they normally called home that he realised the difference in his angel.

They had been letting themselves become comfortable with each other while Dean rested and Sam was away; and the first time that Dean noticed Cas looking at him like  _that_ was when they were in the library. He'd finally been able to make his way back in there (two days in a row no less!) and was trying to find an adequately entertaining novel to read when ht felt Cas' familiar gaze on him from the doorway.

He wasn't wearing his trenchcoat. He wasn't wearing his tie. He was wearing sweatpants and one of Dean's ACDC t-shirts. He still looked heavenly to Dean's eyes. 

"Can I help you, oh Angel of the Lord?" Dean smirked as his gaze returned to the book spines facing him.

"You're in the library." Castiel said, the smile evident in his voice as he entered and started to make his way over.

"Yeah, well, it  _is_ where the books are." Dean tried to dismiss it as non-significant as he picked up a copy of The Call of Cthulhu and turned it over in his hands.

"You're in the  _horror_ section." Cas continued, now standing right behind Dean with his mouth beside his ear, "you're making progress."

Dean closed his eyes and placed the book back on the shelf.

"Something is going to make progress with you all up in my space like that."

Castiel scoffed, "That was cheesy, even for you." 

"You love cheese." Dean turned to face the angel who looked slightly confused about whether Dean was talking about liking cheese the food or cheesy statements - double meanings often took him a few moments,

"Cas, please," Dean continued when it looked like the minor confusion was passing, "you walk back in here, give me mind blowing head, and now you haven't even kissed me in three days."

"Dean," the angel sighed, exasperated, "I don't want-"

"To push too far too fast. I know." The hunter finished for him, "But, I'm asking..."

"You're whining..."

"I'm  _asking..."_

"You're practically pleading at this point, really..."

"Okay fine, I'm  _begging,_ " Dean conceded, reaching out to fidget with the worn hem of the shirt Cas was wearing. He couldn't meet his gaze as he spoke, that was too difficult, but the words had to be said, "I just want you to kiss me. Wings or not, I don't care; it's just killing me that now I know we both want it and you're holding back.  _Please_. Please, just kiss me. Just...just love me, man."

Cas smiled at him again. The same soft, endearing smile that Dean had caught on him in the doorway. And suddenly he realised what it was, though he hadn't seen it in so long. Lisa used to look at him like that, once upon a time. 

"Honestly Dean," Cas spoke softly, "If people overhear you talking like that, they might realise you aren't that tough after all." The angel leaned in and pressed their lips together, finally giving in to Dean's request. How could he deny him when he started to ask like that?

Dean smiled into the kiss and let his hands move from the borrowed shirt Castiel wore to wrap around him, resting on the angel's back as he gently pulled him closer. 

"To hell with them," Dean sighed as Cas moved to kiss along his jawline just as gently, "I'll kick all their asses."

Castiel chuckled against Dean's ear, the vibration and gravelly tone making Dean shudder, "I'm sure you would."

Dean buried his face in the nape of Cas' neck as the angel simply hugged him then, arms wrapped around the human's brought shoulders. But Dean's hands couldn't help but wander further upwards under the fabric of the old t-shirt the feel the cool, smooth skin of Castiel's back. He added a gently kiss into the crook on his angel's neck, and this time it was Cas who made a small noise of pleasure.

"Mmm..."

"NIce?" Dean smiled against Cas' skin, kissing him again and again until the angel sighed.

"Yes, it is. Very." Cas pulled back slightly to meet Dean's gaze, "you're not going to give up, are you?" 

Dean shook his head with a smile, knowing he'd won. He ran his fingers along the waistband of Castiel's sweatpants, "I just want you."

"You're certain?" Dean rolled his eyes but Cas held firm, "I don't mean in general. I mean now, right now."

"Yes Cas," Dean desperately tried to make himself clear, "Today, tomorrow, yesterday. Always, now, right now, right here."

Castiel raised an eyebrow skeptically, "Right now, right here? In the library?"

Dean shrugged mischievously, "I won't tell Sammy if you don't."

With another of those glorious chuckles Cas leaned in to kiss him once more, only this time it wasn't so chaste. 

 

At first it was all lips and gentle presses, but even that made Dean's stomach flip. So when Cas' searching tongue finally entered his mouth for the first time, it was as though his whole body sighed in contented bliss and simply let the pleasure of it wash over him. 

Dean expected him to taste of the universe, cosmic rays, and grace. He tasted like coffee and, somehow, honeyed whiskey. 

The angel's hands began to wander, caressing the scarred skin they found under Dean's shirt. Those nimble fingers patiently explored over unseen angles and flesh and the hunter found that he couldn't help sighing into the kiss as his own fingertips dig into the unblemished skin at the small of Castiel's back. 

It was as if the man in his arms was an entirely different creature to the one who had ravaged him so desperately a few days before. And suddenly Dean realised that there really were two Castiels. The Cas he knew that wanted to lavish and adore him as he was doing now. The Cas with eternal patience and the endless capacity for love. The Cas that seemed perfectly happy to kiss him deeply and semi-lazily for fifteen minutes before licking down and just as lazily suck on his Adam's apple to make him moan...

And then there was the  _other_ Cas. The Cas from the other day that even the angel hadn't fully expected. The Cas who was all presence and fury and dominance. Who took what he wanted and Dean had been lucky that he was so very loved and had been asked his opinion on the matter. The Cas that needed beyond need, wanted beyond want, and had no time or patience for things like kisses and touches and  _love._

The Cas of the other day, Dean now saw as their shirts were being discarded, had been blind lust, power, and greed. And this Cas, the one who licked ad kissed where his ribs could be made out, warming the enochian symbols beneath, was afraid and embarrassed by that other self. Both versions of Castiel loved him, Dean knew that, and Dean adored them both. They were both two halves of a whole and he would take Cas in whichever form he wanted; a gentle lover doting on him as though he were the most precious thing in creation, or a winged fury incapable of self control. 

It was while Cas was peeling his dark jeans and boxers down together, letting his lips kiss and suck on Dean's hip that the hunter decided that he should let him know,  _needed_ to let him know, how much he loved the angel just as he was now.

"Cas...?"

"Mmm?" Cas sounded content. He'd gotten Dean out of his pants and was kneeling when he looked up into those green eyes far above him. His eyes were dark and lust-fulled, but he was nowhhere near gone and out of control like the last time. He looked blissful as his hands stroked their way back up the human's inner thighs. Dean had to bite his lip and close his eyes to keep the moan at bay for that. 

"C-Cas...you know I love you..."

"Mmhmm..." Cas' mouth made its way down from Dean's hip, past his already stiff erection and to the sensitive sac behind. A hand met his mouth there, to fondle as he licked and sucked. 

The sound that made its way from Dean's lips was barely human. He reached to the bookshelf behind him to stop himself from falling over. Books topped all around them, falling haphazardly with more than a few antiques likely to have bent pages as a result. 

Sam would kill him. He didn't care.

"C-Cas!" Dean wanted more. He wanted his angel to take him an make him his own. He didn't know how he was going to get the words out, especially not with the way Cas was laving on him. And then Castiel moved. He moved and licked from where he had been sucking on that most tender of placed and didn't stop until he reached the tip of Dean's dripping erection. It had been one stroke and the groan Dean made was more than indecent. He was white-knuckling the bookshelf, barely able to stand; yet when he looked at Cas his angel still looked like he had all the patience in the universe. Like he could do this all day.

"Nice? Cas asked cheekily, moving his free hand to Dean's erection and taking long, languid strokes as he watched with interest as if he were deciding his next strategy.

"...fuck me..." Dean heard that delicious chuckle again, from somewhere deep in Cas' throat and realised that the angel thought he was just using his usual turn of phrase. Dean forced one of his hands to remove itself from the shelf and instead find purchase in the angel's unruly hair, tilting his head back and forcing his gaze upwards to meet his own, "I mean it Cas," Dean forces out between laboured breaths, "...fuck me."

"...Oh!" Cas looked taken aback by the request, "Are-"

"If you ask me if I'm sure, so help me I will pin you down and ride you like a pony." 

"I wouldn't mind that." Cas reply came after only a moment's hesitation and made Dean blush brightly, "but I'm not sure  _that_ image I'm something I'm after right now." 

Castiel moved his attention back to the appendages in his hands, thinking things over; then as if making his decision all at once, the hand that had been affectionately been fondling Dean's balls moved backwards, further between his legs. Cas's mouth made its way back to Dean's cock, taking him in and sucking on him languidly as exploratory fingers played at the hunter's entrance. 

"Ohhh yes..." Dean moaned as one finger, then two, made their way inside him in time with Castiel's rhythm against his cock. 

There was no pain, only pleasure, and Dean wasn't nearly naive enough to think that somewhere along the line there hadn't been some angel mojo worked to accommodate that. Not that he didn't appreciate the lack of burn given that the only live he had on hand was at the other end of the bunker, but he kind of would've liked to feel it afterwards.  A third finger joined and Dean was losing it. He moaned shamelessly as his hips thrust back and forth; against those penetrating fingers, into that hot mouth, back against those fingers. He was close, so close. He could barely see. He gripped the shelf tighter and clung desperately to Castiel's hair as he tried to hold back. 

Everything stopped. Cas' mouth and hand disappeared from his slick cock in an instant, followed closely by the deft fingers that had been stretching him so dutifully and beautifully. Dean whined, unable to stop himself, and slumped to the floor. "Cas...?"  The angel was standing and removing his pants as he looked down at Dean, the expression on his face searching as if looking for any sign of a change of heart. BUt when he didn't find one he smiled down at the human he loved so desperately. 

Castiel cleared some of the rogue books from the smattering around them so that Dean had room to get comfy. He chose to lay on his back, wanting to see Cas' face. The angel couldn't help but think that despite everything Dean looked so relaxed, so ready; and with a smile he leaved over the hunter and kissed him deeply. They both sighed into it as Cas used the distraction to lift Dean's hips from the floor and position himself.  Any doubts he'd had about whether it was something Dean really wanted left him as soon as he was pushing into Dean's tight hole.

"Ohhh fuck yeeesss...." The hunter groaned, overcome with the sensation. Cas had been right during their confrontation all those weeks ago when he'd teased Dean about loving dick. It was true, he did. And it had been far too long since he'd felt anything close to what he felt in that moment. But but what it better was that it was  _Cas_.

Cas wasn't small, not by a long shot. From what Dean had gauged when the naked angel stood over him, he was around the same length that Dean was, and had a little more girth. 

That 'little more girth' was blowing his mind.' 

With every thrust Dean cried out or moaned. His body and legs shuddering within minutes as he teetered dangerously close to the edge once more. 

"C-Cas-" His voice was shaking as much as his body, his plea for release practically a whimper. 

Castiel leaned forward to kiss his hunter once more, using the act to distract him slightly as he took hold of Dean's straining erection and prevented him from coming, "Not quite yet, Dean, almost," he kissed him again, sweetly yet desperately - how did he do that? It made Dean's soul scream for more, "Not without me, okay?" 

Dean nodded vigorously as Cas increased his rhythm. Something must have told him that the human beneath him was dangerously close to the brink because it was as if he let go of that eternal patience and just gave into the desire.

He drove into Dean's ass with deep, hard thrusts, moaning and letting himself get lost in the most basal and human feelings that came with the act of sex. It was sublime and it filled him, as an angel here with Dean, in a way it never had in his limited experiences as a human. Even his angelic communions in what seemed like lives prior didn't compare to his carnal, animal, yet most beautiful and divine act. 

The build-up to climax was different for him this time. Last time, with his wings out, it was like the energy was already there - an excess that needed to be expelled. But this time it was rising, more human and yet somehow not. He could feel his grace expanding and growing as if that too was going to expel itself. He wouldn't be able to stop it.

"Ready Dean?" Cas asked as he began to stroke the hunter's twitching cock once more, "it might get a little bright in here." He was speaking into Dean's ear between shuddering breaths and all Dean could do was nod and moan. All at once, Castiel let go of the magical hold preventing Dean's climax and increased the speed of his own thrusts. 

Dean came within moments, screaming a litany of profanities and Castiel's name, his body clenched and tightened in ecstasy; and Cas came tumbling after. The angel cried out as he came and for a split second Dean saw the grace-blue of his eyes. Then he thought he was blind.

The hunter felt his angel kiss him and remove himself from above him. But he couldn't see anything but white. He was about to start panicking when slowly the light began to fade and things started to come back into focus. 

THe air crackled, the could see small thunderous claps of grace just sitting in the air around the room. And Cas, Cas was perfect. Sitting next to where Dean lay, both of them still stark naked; he was panting for breath he shouldn't need and his eyes glowed with the stormy grace that filled the room. Dean didn't have any words. So he let his hand seek out Cas' and entwined their fingers gently. The angel turned to him, that loving smile full of adoration back on his face.

"Nice?" 

"More than nice." Dean had almost no voice left. He didn't care, and he knew deep down that the smile on his face was the same as the one Cas was giving him, "Perfect."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, my apologies for the delay in getting his chapter out and leaving things where they were. There was exactly zero intent for that to happen. There has been some stuff going on over here that has made it a bit difficult to write (sadly I lost a friend to drug overdose and my brain as been a mass of not nice things...I'm okay! I am but I just needed a few days to wallow)
> 
> The usual junk: not beta read and my tumblr: https://etherealxen.tumblr.com/
> 
> updated tags: anal sex and fingering. and I'll be updating the rating to explicit even though my writing for this chapter was still quite tame. I'm more experimenting in this fic with perspective writing not description so it's not THAT explicit but I don't want anyone wandering in thinking that this is going to be implied when it's well...not. 
> 
> There will only be a few more chapters to go, and a side work of Sam's time away with Gabe. and then I'll need a new project to work on! Something fun that will be planned! and descriptive! and fun! Feel free to throw prompts and requests at me! it doesn't have to be Dean/Cas or Sam/Gabe. It doesn't even have to be spn. I'm easy. If it's not something I know or write I'll let you know.


	14. Seek Forgiveness and Ye Shall be Forgiven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean learns that he's not the only one with a holy bedfellow.

Sam ended up staying away for almost three weeks in the end. He'd call and text but he seemed to be having a good time and Dean wasn't freaking out, so there hadn't been a need to rush him to return. 

When he did, he arrived in the bunker in the early evening to find Dean and Cas eating Dinner. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down across from the casually.

"Welcome back," Dean said, his mouth full of steak.

"Thanks, it really does feel like a long drive." Sam took a long draw from his beer, "you look really well."

"I'm awesome. You look good too. There's more food if you want some, and pie."

"You're offering to share pie?"

"I've shared pie before."

"Under duress!" Sam laughed and turned to Cas who had been suspiciously quiet so far, "Cas, what have you done to him while I've been gone?"

Dean stiffened and shoved another forkful of mashed potatoes in his mouth as Cas shifted in his chair. They had, of course, discussed telling Sam that their relationship had progressed from the friendship it once was to the barely-out-of-the-bedroom love-fest it had become. They had gotten so far as deciding that they needed to tell him in person, and probably not mess up his library anymore as a gesture of goodwill. 

Other than that they had exactly zero percent of a plan. 

"Guys? Why are you acting weird?"

"Sam, I'm sleeping with your brother." When Cas spoke Dean nearly choked on his food.

"Really, Cas? No lead in? At all?" 

Castiel shrugged and took a sip from the beer he had been sitting on, "Did it really need any lead in at this point?"

Sam cleared his throat from where he sat across the table, "That's awesome! I'm glad you two have finally managed to find your way to each other."

Dean looked at his brother nervously, still unconvinced that his acceptance was genuine despite all of his support throughout the entire ordeal.

"Really?" The older hunter asked, trying not to let the full depth of his skepticism leak through into his voice, "you're cool?" 

"Yeah, man; I'm cool." Dean nodded, trying to ignore the added stiffness in the way Sam sat. The way his little brother shifted in his seat. He'd need time to adjust to the news, of course he would. Dean could give him that time and not be pushy.

"Uh, Cas?" Sam cleared his throat again and shifted awkwardly as Dean took another bite of his steak cautiously, "Since we're being honest and open about this stuff. Apparently. You should probably know...I'm kind of sleeping with your brother too..."

"Excellent!" Cas smiled and raised his bottle of beer to Sam but Dean dropped his fork.

"Wait, what? Which brother?" Sam was grinning again, pleased with Cas' response; but Dean wasn't happy at all and slammed a fist down hard on the table making both Sam and Cas start in their chairs, "Which fucking brother?!"

The table was silent. Sam was staring at Dean's outburst and Cas was looking down at his beer, the momentary celebration gone. After a few moments Sam turned to Castiel, a searching look on his face but Cas simply shook his head.

"Uh...the mystery angel..." Said said at last, his voice quiet. 

"You're not going to tell me who he is?" Dean glared, "Even now?  _Either_ of you?" He stared down both his brother and his lover until they both looked down and away. Then he stood and walked off angrily, a muttered "fuck this" barely audible in his wake.

"Well..." Castiel said after hearing Dean's bedroom door slam in the distance, "that was ill-received." 

"In his defense I'd be pissed too if he came home and told me he'd started sleeping with some supernatural being but wouldn't tell me who." Sam sighed as Cas nodded, unable to argue with the point that Sam had made. But then he noticed Sam pull out his phone and start dialing and his eyes narrowed.

"Who are you calling?"

"Who do you think?"

"You convinced him to get a phone? I've been trying to do that since we got back." 

"I have all the advantage of being unable to be prayed to." Sam smirked and Cas couldn't help but chuckle. Sam lifted the handset to his ear, listening to it ring as he pulled an old receipt from his pocket and scribbled Gabriel's number on the back of it for Castiel. 

 _"Hey Sa-mooch, make it home okay?"_ Gabriel picked up on the fourth ring and Sam couldn't help but smile at the sound of his voice.

"Yeah, of course. But things have kind of gone south since then." 

_"Our brothers haven't killed each other have they? I mean, I wouldn't be totally surprised but-"_

"We need to tell Dean about you." 

The line was quiet for a short time before Gabriel spoke again

_"Now when you say 'need'..."_

"I mean I  _may_ have told them about us, forgetting that Dean doesn't know you exist, and now he's thrown a tantrum because he thinks I'm having sex with some random angel that probably wants to kill us all in our sleep as soon as possible."

_"Ah...I see the issue. You probably should have thought that though a little more, Sammy."_

"Shut up, Gabe. I need to tell him. Let me." 

_"No."_

"Dammit, Gabe!"

_"I want to see his face when he realises. Bring him to me."_

Gabriel hung up the phone and Sam turned to Cas, who judging by his expression had heard the whole thing. 

"That is  _not_ going to go well.." The angel said and Sam shook his head in agreeance.

"No. No, it's not." Sam finished off his beer and looked at the empty bottle, "So...how are we going to convince Dean that he needs to drive twenty hours to go to church on a whim?"

Castiel rolled his eyes before rubbing his face. Getting Dean Winchester to go to church to meet an archangel that he thought was dead, who was also sleeping with his brother, which Dean was also pissed of about...it suddenly seemed a near impossible task.

"I feel like saving the world is a easier ask."

"Yeah well,  _that_ we're kind of used to at this point." Sam pointed out and they both sighed. It was going to be a long night.

 

\---

 

When the next morning came they had a plan. Though neither of them really liked it. It wasn't going to have Dean in a good mood from the start and could only go downhill from there. 

They had realised that Dean was probably equally pissed of at them both. But Sam was the one having sex with an unknown entity, and Cas was better and making coffee the way Dean liked it. So the one least likely to be punched in the face for waking he hunter, even with coffee in hand, at five in the morning, was Cas. 

The angel crept into Dean's room, a large travel mug of steaming coffee in hand, and made his way to stand beside the bed. 

"Dean, it's time to get up." He added the smallest amount of power to his voice to get through to Dean's brain and help him wake without the need to touch him and inevitably jolt him into that defensive state where he wanted to kill everything he saw. 

"Fuck off, Cas." Dean grumble, rolling over without opening his eyes. 

"I have coffee and we're taking you to see the angel. He's agreed to be revealed." 

"So just tell me who he is and leave me alone."

"That's not the agreement." Cas sighed, rolling his eyes at Dean's predictable petulance.

"Screw the agreement." Dean was sulking and didn't care, but Cas wasn't going to put up with it. 

"We don't have time for this today, Dean." He waved a hand and Dean's blanket went flying. Dean sat up to glare at Cas in the cold morning air only to find the angel staring at him sternly,

"Dammit, Cas!"

"Get. Up." Cas shoved the travel mug into Dean's hands and moved to the hunter's wardrobe before opening the door, "Can I trust you to get out of bed and get dressed, or do I have to make that happen too?"

"Since when do you bow to the whims of other angels again anyway?" Dean asked spitefully, "Worried he has more mojo than you?"

"Not at all," Cas reached into the wardrobe, grabbed a shirt, and threw it in Dean's face, "I know damn well he does. Get dressed. We're leaving in twenty minutes, with or without you. Stop being a child, this is Sam's happiness you're throwing a tantrum over." 

The angel left the room and as soon as the door was closed Dean was feeling like an asshole. Again. He sighed and took a sip of the coffee Cas had made him. Cas had been making him coffee for years and it was always perfect; Dean didn't even remember telling him how he liked his coffee made. But then, the guy could read minds, so maybe he never had. Dean suddenly wondered if using his mind reading abilities to learn how Dean liked his coffee was one of the many 'etc...' notes in the 'minor sins' that he'd burned of Castiel's wings for. And then the travel cup seemed very heavy, so he put it down on the bedside table before hauling his ass out of bed to get ready before Sam and Cas left without him. 

He walked into the war room fifteen minutes later to find his brother and his angel talking comfortable over travel mugs of their own. When they heard him enter they both looked up and Sam smiled awkwardly. 

"So, where are we going and how long is the drive?"

"Back to California," Sam said, clearly grateful for Dean's attempt at keeping his tone casual, "But we're not driving."

"What?" Dean looked confused for a moment until he saw Cas extend his hand out to him. Sam gently took hold of Cas' elbow and they waited patiently for Dean to decide if he was going with them,

"Time to go Dean," Cas said gently, "We can't be late." Dean stepped forward nervously and took hold of Cas' hand. It had been years since he had flown by angel and it had always been unnerving and unsettling. It was better than flying by plane, sure, but not by much.

His stomach clenched as he felt the pull of flight and as the world refocused he started to feel sick. He sipped his undisturbed coffee anyway and then took in his surroundings. 

How their sudden appearance went unnoticed he had no idea. It was only a quarter to six in the morning but the street seemed flooded with people greeting each other brightly. Some had coffee in tow like they did, some were quickly eating food, others were trying to wrangle children. 

"What the hell are we doing?" Sam clapped him on the shoulder and forced into step behind Cas who had already started following the fellowship towards the cathedral. 

"Early morning mass starts at six," Sam explained, "we can't be late." 

Dean protested as much as he could, whispering frantically about cults and how he knew God quite personally enough thank you very much, and who the hell needed to get up that early to worship  _Chuck_ anyway? Especially when they all knew damn well that he a) didn't care and b) wasn't watching. 

He was just starting on a rant about being concerned for Sam's mental state - 'Converting to Catholicism, Sam? Really? Catholicism?' - when he noticed Castiel buckle slightly on the steps ahead of them. He didn't quite falter, and he didn't come even remotely close to falling; but for a few moments it was as though he struggled to move. And the look on his face was pure discomfort. Not quite pain, but he was clearly uncomfortable.  

"Cas?" Dean moved forward and took his arm, Sam close behind him, "You okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Cas replied, glancing over the crowd to see if he had any semblance of privacy to explain. They were towards the back, walking slowly, and the crowd was thinning; so he chose to risk it. "The warding on the cathedral is incredibly strong and complex. No angel can just walk in. Permissions for me have been included in the wards but...it's uncomfortable when I pass through all the same. The warding has to verify who I am before I am allowed through."

"You can only get in the building because you have special permission?"

Castiel didn't answer Dean's question, opting instead to just continue inside. Dean looked to Sam meaningfully but his brother only nodded towards the door urging him on. He continued with no further complaint. 

Despite the crowd they had seen, the cathedral was only about half full and Cas led them to sit at a pew at the back where they wouldn't be too much of a disturbance when they no doubt started muttering and bickering among themselves. 

"I don't get it," Dean said after a few minutes of quiet thinking, "Why a church? Why the warding? Why all the hiding?" 

"It's the best place isn't it, really?" Sam sighed from his right, looking down forlornly and picking at the cuff of his jacket in that way he always did when he was nervous, "low level demons  _can't_ go to church. Sacred ground, they just can't. Even for higher level demons it's hard. For the rest there's the warding for protection. And angels? Well they just don't go to church. No need to. They commune with heaven from anywhere and sacred ground on earth doesn't really mean much. But the wards prevent accidents and help hide his power. Help make it so they don't notice him. And churches, especially old ones like this, they often have a lot of power of their own. They often hold holy relics. He can slip under the radar." 

"But why all the effort?"

"I couldn't  _leave him there_ , Dean." Castiel finally said from Dean's left, "He suffered so much on Earth, more than he ever let on; and the way he died...I just..I just couldn't. I couldn't leave him there." 

Dean's eyes widened as realisation hit him. He thought he'd been coming to meet one of a thousand faceless, nameless seraphs that walked the earth since the fall. But he wasn't. Castiel had brought someone back with him. That changed things. That changed things completely. He wasn't sure if it made things better or worse, or if it simply made things terrifying. But it as least made things make sense.

"You didn't come back from The Empty alone..." It wasn't a question but Cas shook his head in answer anyway. 

And then the congregation moved. They all rose in unison, Cas too; as if he were some part of this strange machine that was the fellowship within the church. He chuckled at Dean who was like a fish out of water, not knowing whether to stand or not. But the mass of people quickly sat down again leaving Dean embarrassed and Cas and Sam snickering at him. Dean was about to tell them to shut their pie holes when a voice rang out. 

A voice he knew but never thought he'd hear again.

"Good morning, friends; it's nice to see you here at Saint Michael's. I know that normally this service is taken by Father James, but unfortunately he seems to be under the weather so I'll be taking his place on this glorious morning. For those of you that haven't met me before, my name is Father Gabriel." 

Dean was staring wide eyed, jaw dropped. He didn't say anything. He had no words. He simply stared at the archangels conducting morning mass as if it were an every day occurrence. 

It was an every day occurrence he realised with shock. Gabriel had been hiding out here for  _months._ As a  _priest._ Fulfilling priestly duties. Giving sermons, taking confession... Christ! Gabriel taking confession! What kind of messed up shit was that? Finally, Dean found the right words to sum up his reaction.

"Fuck me dead." He was still staring hard, and even though his words were barely above a whisper, he knew Gabriel had heard him. The tell-tale smirk and the glint in those ferocious eyes when he turned right to him couldn't be mistaken. 

But to his right Sam was struggling to hold in his laughter. He had a hand over his mouth and was snickering heavily. Dean turned to him and smacked him on the arm, "You're sleeping with a goddamn archangel? Are you insane?" He hissed under his breath. 

Sam rolled his eyes but didn't miss a beat, "We are  _both_ sleeping with angels, and at this point I would argue that if not 'insane' we're both pretty damn messed up, yeah."

Dean thought about his brother's words and nodded, unable to argue. He was right again. As usual. As always. As he was considering Sam's words, Gabriel's began to finally seep through and sink in. He couldn't help but stop and listen.

"Sammy? Is your boy preaching tolerance and acceptance?" 

"Yes, he is," Sam smiled, "That's what he does. None of that old school crap from him."

"Huh. We'll that's cool." And then Dean just sat and listened. He, like Sam, didn't bother with all the standing and sitting (which seemed to happen way too often to be necessary in his opinion), and none of them took communion or sang along with the hymns. Dean noticed that Gabriel didn't sing along either and he wondered to himself if that was off. Sure, they had a choir to lead the congregation in song, but wouldn't the priest normally sing too?

But mostly he listened. He listened to Gabriel talk of acceptance of self and self forgiveness. That it was normal to make mistakes and have faults but that these things should be forgiven. And that, more than anything else, the things that made one  _most_ human were when you did was was necessary, what was right; and still blamed yourself for doing wrong anyway. The human condition was one of inescapable love, Gabriel claimed, but that while it was often easy to love others despite their failures, we should also work on loving ourselves despite them. 

Dean took it all in thoughtfully and got the nagging feeling that whatever illness poor Father James had come down with was likely to be suspiciously 'heaven-sent' and probably decided on well after Gabriel had finished writing this sermon for him to hear. 

The three of them stayed seated once mass had finished. The crowd slowly left, making their way home or to go about their day. Some people lingered to speak with Gabriel who talked to them briefly and happily. A number of people asked him to pass on well wished to the mysteriously ill pastor that would otherwise have been their morning preacher. 

And then, finally the cathedral was empty save for two wayward angels and their hunters. Gabriel closed the door after the last parishioner left and discreetly locked it before walking to the pew in front of the one the trio sat on in silence. He knelt on the pew and lent on it, looking over the back of it to smile at Dean in that iconic trickster grin. Dean was flanked on all sides, Cas on his left, Sam on his right, a smirking Gabriel in front of his face; and an inability to retreat backwards from where he sat. He felt too smothered to be comfortable. But Gabriels's smirk wasn't menacing, just smug, so he did his best to keep his freak out at bay. And then Gabriel spoke.

"Howdy Dean-o! Penny for your thoughts?"  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really have any notes to add for this chapter other than the usual blah... so... blah blah not beta read blah blah tumblr: https://etherealxen.tumblr.com/
> 
> Tags added Gabe/Sam (Mentioned)


	15. And Who in The Hell Made you King?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it's Dean's turn to get over every one else's shit.

Gabriel was sitting in front of Dean, a meter of less away, with that smug grin plastered in his face; asking the hunter for his thoughts in what was his classic mocking tone.

Thought. Dean had plenty of them, but not many words, and he tried to sift through them to the important ones.

Gabriel, archangel of the lord and kind-of-pagan god was back from the dead. Brought back from The Empty by Cas. This was probably a good thing overall. Lucifer was still, on some plane or other, on the loose and with a lack of any other archangels around it would be nice, for once, to have someone batting for their team that wasn't seriously aiming above their weight. Though Lucifer  _had_ been the one to kill Gabe in the first place, so whether he even wanted to leave the church and step up to the plate was an known. Damn, he'd taken a hell of a lot of convincing the first time. He wasn't exactly the 'run towards the conflict' type. Probably why he was hiding in a church.

That was what strategist Dean was saying. The reasonable, trained part of his brain that was looking at the angel as an asset. But that voice was small and quiet compared to the far less reasonable, far more emotional parts of his brain.

Those parts of his brain were screaming at him that the creature before him was a menace. A monster that should be kept at bay and that Sammy should be protected from him. All that business with the TV show trick had been torturous enough, even if the guy did have flair and a killer sense of humour. But what he'd done to Sam? All those Tuesdays, watching Dean die? It was unforgivable. And yet that was still only half of it. He'd been the one to send Same to the cage - the one that told them how to send Lucifer back. It was his fault Sam went through all he went through in that god forsaken put. His fault Sam lost his soul. His fault Sam went through all the torment and torture of having the devil in his head. 

Oh yes, Dean Winchester had a lot of thoughts about Gabriel. He always had. And that was long before he'd somehow snaked his way into his brother's bed.

That made it worse, so much worse; in Dean's mind. It took Gabriel from misguided trickster that could maybe be a not-quite-enemy the way Crowley had been, and put him straight in the territory of manipulative predator. What had he done to Sam to convince him that everything he'd done 'wasn't do bad'? Hell, Sam had never seemed as angry about it all. Had the archangel done something to him back then? How long had he been manipulating his little brother? 

Either way, Gabriel had seriously messed up his brother's head and his life and had no business messing around in his pants; no matter how happy Sam thought it made him. Because of course Castiel's voice was piping up inside his head making a nuisance of itself and being reasonable.

_'It's Sam's happiness you're throwing a tantrum over.'_

And so he should let it go. Obviously he should let it go. That would be the reasonable, adult thing to do. It was none of his business, really, if his brother made stupid-ass decisions about who to go to bed with. Even if he would be the one counselling him through it later; and in this case, probably stitching up cuts and bruises it Gabriel roughed him it. It wasn't necessarily that Dean thought Gabe would intentionally hurt Sam, or that he wouldn't, but it also wasn't like even low level angels didn't have crazy strength. What if the archangel accidentally broke his brother in two by kissing him too hard?

Ugh. Now he was thinking of them kissing. Don't run with that thought, don't run with that thought...

Yes. He had a lot of thoughts. And the more and more of them he had, the clearer it became that few, if any of them were good. 

Gabriel should not be sleeping with Sam. That much was clear to Dean. Sam was far too clever and human and he'd been through enough. And he didn't need him. The only person Sam really needed to take care of him was Dean; he'd done it his whole life. Dean was the one that watched over him and protected him and made sure he was okay. Sam didn't need an angel to protect him or anything like that. Sure he'd outgrown Dean in basically every other way, but surely he still needed him to look after him and watch out for him?

Girls had come and gone, Gabriel would too. But after all the damage he'd already done it would be better if he hadn't come at all. 

Gabriel didn't have enough pennies in the bank for all of Dean Winchester's thoughts. 

Dean's chaotic thought process had taken only moments and he took a deep, steadying breath before standing.

"I'm leaving."

"What? Castiel looked at him incredulously and Sam looked up in confusion.

"Dean!" 

Gabriel merely raised an eyebrow and watched as Dean started to try and force his way past his brother.

"It's too damn early, I need more coffee - and breakfast - before I can properly process this shit."

"But, Dean!" Gabriel just couldn't keep his smug mouth shut, "We finally have the chance to get to know each other."

Dean tried not to rise, he really did. But he was already in a bad mood. His eyes dropped slightly and took note of the row of thick holy books nestles neatly in the back of the pew Gabriel was kneeling on. He didn't bother to think twice, picking up one of the heavy tomes and backhanding Gabriel across the face with it, putting all his weight into the swing.

"Whoa!" Sam exclaimed, reaching for Dean unnecessarily as the elder Winchester tossed the bible aside unceremoniously. Gabriel's head had whipped aside at with the blow and he looked genuinely surprised that Dean had struck him. He tested his jaw as Dean spoke,

"Go fuck yourself, Gabriel." He continued moving along the pew, ignoring Castiel's calls after him. It took him a moment to figure out the lock on the door, but once he had he stepped out into the sun and away from the turmoil in his head. 

 

\---

 

He needed more caffeine and he needed grease. It was time to go in search of food and Dean found himself swearing bitterly as he descended the stone steps, cursing Sam and Cas that the impala was back at the bunker and that he had to walk.

Picking  a direction he started to walk, taking out his phone to try and look up a nearby breakfast place as he went. He found somewhere without too much trouble and ordered himself eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, and whatever else that wasn't green. He also ordered himself two coffees. 

He'd been sitting there maybe ten minutes when Castiel walked up to his outside table and sat down opposite him. Neither of them spoke at first, but Cas did take the liberty of picking up the first of Deans coffees and sipping it. 

Eventually Dean's steam ran out and he just sighed,"I'm not going to apologise for smacking his smug face with a bible." To his relief Castiel only smiled.

"Personally, I think it was fitting; and at least you've learned not to punch full-strength angels in the face with your fist." 

Dean shrugged as he picked at his breakfast with a fork, "I don't know what I was expecting but..."

"But not Gabriel?"

"He ruined Sam's life, Cas." Cas tilted his head, confused, So Dean explained his thoughts as best he could.

"I don't think Sam sees things in the same way that you do."

"Not that it matters, anyway." Dean said sadly, "I don't think Sam needs me anymore."

"Of course he does," Case stoke more of Dean's coffee, "Why on earth wouldn't he?"

"He took over as the brains of this outfit long ago, and with an archangel on his shoulder to take care of him, what could he possibly need me for?"

"Everything." Cas was looking at him like he was an idiot. Maybe he was. He was feeling that way a lot lately, "just because he's found his own way and you now rely on him too, that doesn't mean he doesn't need you. You're his brother, Dean."

"You don't need your brothers." Castiel half chuckled.

"I dragged the brother I was to back from the dead because I missed him," the angel sighed, "clearly I do."

"The spiel you gave about not being able to leave him there was a load of crap then?"

Castiel shrugged, "it was true, but I had selfish reasons as well. I've been lonely without him and my brethren. Just as Sam would be lonely without you." 

"You always make things sound so reasonable."

"Yes well, I'm old and wise."

"Does that make me young and stupid?"

"Sometimes." Cas smiled and Dean chuckled, feeling a little better. 

"Cas, I need to ask you something that's been bugging me." Cas looked at him and nodded, taking yet another sip of the coffee that Dean was eyeing as if it carried extra weight, "How do you know how I like my coffee? I don't remember ever telling you. So, please, I need to know." 

Castiel's eyes narrowed slightly, confused by the suddenness of the random question. He put the cup down,turning it in his hands on the table as he answered,

"Every time you would complain about the coffee at a diner or motel I would take on your complaint and watch what you did to make your coffee drinkable. In the end I just figured it out the molecular structure of your preferred combination of milk, sugar, and coffee."

"...No mind reading?" Cas' look of confusion remained for a few moments before the penny dropped.

"Oh...Oh, no. No, Dean. Never any mind reading for something like that.  _Never for anything like that._ " Dean nodded and pushed his plate aside, glad for the honest answer and glad he didn't need to explain it. Castiel reached out and took his hand gently.

"Will things like that concern you?"

"For a while, yeah." Dean picked up the second coffee cup with his free hand and sipped as Castiel looked away thoughtfully before adding, "...I still love the wings though." The angel smirked.

"I guess we'd better go and find them." Dean sighed, pulling his hand away from Cas and putting his coffee back on the table so that he could get out his wallet and throw down some cash.

"Don't worry. I know where they are, the walk isn't far. Gabriel doesn't like straying far from the church." Castiel stood, picking up both takeaway cups and they walked off, Dean fiddling with his wallet before placing it firmly back in his pocket.

"Why were you so happy when Sam told us, anyway?" Dean took the half empty cup from Cas, deciding that the angel would appreciate the extra full one; he didn't really need all that extra caffeine as much as he'd originally thought, "You were thrilled." Castiel sipped what was now 'his' coffee as they walked, mulling over his answer for a moment before speaking.

"They're an ideal pair." The angel said simply with a shrug, "Gabriel needs someone smart and quick witted, that will appreciate his humour but not put up with it when he goes too far. Sam can keep him grounded and in tune with his capacity for compassion. Gabriel tends to fall into contempt and resentment when alone for too long."

"And Sam?" Dean asked, unsure about why Cas had stopped walking when they had only traveled a couple of blocks, "What can Gabriel give him?"

"A number of things, I'd imagine. But I think the most important is hope."

"Hope?" The hunter looked at him incredulously but Castiel simply nodded.

"Sam has never felt human, Dean. Not completely. But at lest in Gabriel he can see that you can be inhuman but still have so much humanity."

"You say that like he's just a regular guy." Dean spoke bitterly, rolling his eyes.

"He's broken, Dean. He's...terribly, horribly broken. Just as I am. Just as you are. Just as Sam is. But that doesn't mean any of us are beyond saving. 

Dean would never have thought of the archangel as 'broken', but he knew damn well that he and Sam were. And Cas too, though he was shocked to hear the angel say it. And he did know that Sam hadn't felt human in years; not since all that junk with the demon blood and his psychic mojo. Dead had tried to reassure him so many times through the years but between that, the time Sam spent soulless, and everything else that had happened to his little brother he really couldn't begrudge him if he found a bridge over the canyon in Gabriel.

He nodded, having taken in what Cas had said, and the angel turned to walk up the stairs of the shortish, fairly inconspicuous apartment block outside which they stood. They didn't need to be buzzed in, it was new and glassy enough for that. But it did, thankfully, have an elevator to take them up to the fifth floor. Cas led Dean down the hall to number seven and knocked twice bluntly. The door opened of its own accord and Dean could suddenly hear the sound of his brother laughing jovially in a way he hadn't heard in years. The joyous sound filled the air as he and Cas walked inside.

Dean closed the door behind them and noticed a light glow over the door as sigils and warding scrawled across it re-engaged. He thought about the heavy warding on the church and looked the door over a little more closely, then looked around the room. They were on lock-down. Heavy lock-down. He didn't even know what most of the visible symbols meant, he'd never seen them. Enochian though, definitely enochian. 

"...Security's a little tight, isn't it?" Dean asked as he followed Cas into the apartment, but his question went unanswered. They found Sam and Gabriel in the living area, sitting on the floor playing some kind of weird looking card game with cartoon cats on the cards. When Dean glanced at the box he saw it was called 'exploding kittens'.

"Feeling better?" Gabriel asked from his place on the floor, smirking up at Dean as if nothing had happened. Dean smirked right back.

"I always feel good after smacking you around, Gabe." Sam rolled his eyes and sighed audibly,

"Guys, could you just...I dunno...not?"

Dean sighed and found a chair to sit in and drink his coffee as the game continued. Cas hung back and watched for a while, sipping from the other cup. The first to finally break the silence was Gabriel, who turned to Cas with a semi-serious, semi-casual expression once the game of exploding kittens was complete and he and Sam were packing up the cards.

"So, Cassie, will you guys be staying a while and will you be singing with me tonight?" 

Cas sipped the coffee again and finally moved to sit on the comfortable grey couch, "We haven't discussed staying; and no, I won't be singing with you if we do." Gabriel raised an eyebrow as he pulled out what looked like, to Dean anyway, a deck of enochian cards. He recognised some of the basic lettering and numbering. The hunter was intrigued and Sam nodded to him to come join in, but heshook his head to decline, unsure. Gabriel was still speaking, more firmly now.

"You  _need_ to sing, Cas." The archangel was saying as he shuffled, "I know you feel like it's not that important, but it's kind of important."

"I don't want to commune with Heaven or the host." Cas finally said bluntly.

"So don't!" Gabriel scoffed like it was no excuse, "You don't have have to. I don't. You just need to sing." 

Dean had been listening to the conversation and he didn't like the way Gabriel was pushing.

"Speaking of singing," he asked as innocently as he could; he was genuinely curious after all, "Why didn't you sing in church, Gabriel? I thought you would have been expected to sing the hymns right along with everyone else." 

"Often yes, the preacher will generally sing along with the congregation," Gabriel held up the card deck, inviting him to the game, accepting the challenge the angel moved from the couch to the floor as Gabriel started to deal, "But humans shouldn't hear angelsong,  _should they_ Castiel?"

He glared daggers at Cas who narrowed his eyes in return, "It all worked out well."

"We're lucky I didn't have my wings out and accidentally kill him."

"Luck had nothing to do with it," Castiel retorted, picking up his hand, "You were only semi-focused that night in case I called for you. There was risk of your wings being on this plane."

"I am so confused right now." Dean put the empty coffee cup down on the floor beside his chair and noticed Sam looking at him with concern 

"I didn't want to talk about it," The younger Winchester said nervously, "because it was  _that_ night. When you and Cas were at the warehouse Cas sent me to Gabe. Gabe didn't know. I didn't know where I was going. When I arrived he was singing. I didn't want to talk to you about that night, in any context, again. Ever."

Dean stared, "That's how you showed up so quick..." Sam simply nodded.

"I prayed to Gabriel informing him of the intent to use holy fire. He made Sam leave the church then, and flew over immediately."

"You watched..." Dean felt violated in a way he never thought he could, "The worst moments of my life  _you_ were there watching like some kind of sicko."

"Hardly," Gabriel looked stricken, "I didn't want to see that. You think I wanted to see  _that_. Hell! No! I stayed up top, circling the roof til it was done and Cassie called me down. I needed to be close though, needed to make sure you  _both_ survived." He turned to his brother, "Now if only you would get the stick our of your ass and  _sing_ , maybe you'd stop being so unbalanced!" 

"Wait, what?" Sam was finishing his turn of the intricate game that Dean was having a hard time following given how the conversation had turned, "I thought angels singing was pretty much all about being part of the host? I've actually been trying to figure out why you do it."

"Gee, why  _do_  angels sing, Castiel? Do you remember?" It was clear that this was a point of great frustration between the two angels given how Cas glared at him, but the seraph sighed and answered anyway having realised that he couldn't get out of it.

"Singing...is something that angels should do for their overall wellbeing. It strengthens and bolsters grace; and for angels on earth or those separated from the host it helps to prevent homesickness, loneliness, anxiety, and depression. It helps to keep us calm and at rest within our vessels, stops us wanting to burst our at the seams and fly home to Heaven." He didn't stop glaring at Gabriel the entire time he spoke. 

"Stops you getting depressed and going stir crazy?" Sam asked and Castiel nodded, beginning his turn in the card game now that Gabriel had finished his. 

But Dean was staring. This day just kept getting better and better. How many of Cas' more questionable decisions had been made because he felt inadequate and depressed?

"Stop!" He leaned forward on his chair eyeing the others sternly, "cards down - all of you." 

Sam knew that look and didn't need telling twice. It was Dean's 'I've had enough of your shit and if you don't shut up and listen you'll get a black eye' face, and even as a grown man Sam knew better than to argue with it. He put down his card. Cas followed suit a moment later with a defeated sigh. Gabriel looked for a moment like he might protest until Sam snatched his cards and shook his head.

"You mean to tell me," Dean was speaking firmly, calmly, which was worse than if he'd been yelling. His gaze drove straight into Castiel mercilessly, "That you made me hack at your wings and burn them off,  _for your wellbeing,_ but you aren't even willing to take care of yourself enough to do some damn karaoke?" 

"...It's not the same." Cas began, but Dean was over it.

"I don't care!" He roared, "I don't care it's apples and fucking potatoes! It's messed me up! I am done with bullshit! With  _all_ of your bullshit!" He pointed to all three of them in turn. 

"You!" He turned on Gabriel, "How do you expect to make this work huh? Sam has a job to do, we're off around the country constantly. The bunker is our base. We need him there.  _You_ need to compromise for him if you give a shit at all.  _You_ need to haul ass to the bunker and see if it's defensible in a way you can work with. He cannot do this back and forth bullshit and if you won't even  _look_ I swear I'll keep him too busy to come to you for a year."

"Dean!" Sam tried to speak up but Dean rounded on him next,

"No! Don't give me that. All the lying and sneaking around, again? No, I don't care. I  _will_ drag you to Canada for a year to make him fall from his pedestal if I have to!" Sam threw up his hands in exasperation. Of course Dean was flying off the handle. Especially after the revelation about Cas, but still, Sam wasn't a child.

"Dean..."

"Oh," Dean continued, "And you're getting the brain thing done." He pointed to his own head for emphasis before turning back to Gabriel, " _No_ accidentally killing my brother with wing display!" 

"And  _you,"_ he turned back to Castiel, rage filling his eyes, "You  _will_ sing. You will  _never_ lie to me again. And you will take me back to the bunker. Now." 

Castiel stood, a wounded expression on his face. He knew that in time Dean would calm down, but in that moment it felt like they were back where they started. He held out his hand, Dean took it, and a moment later they were back in the war room.

"Dean..."

"Just go back, Cas..." Dean deflated, the rage that had consumed him flooding out of him as quickly as it had taken hold, "I want to be alone."

Castiel lofted the hand he still held and kissed Dean's fingers gently, "I love you, Dean. I never intended to cause you hurt."

"I know." He turned to the angel and pulled his hand away, "and I love you too." He kissed Cas briefly, hoping to reassure him that yes, he was angry, but nothing had actually changed. A moment after they parted Cas flew off back to California. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone, as always, for reading! 
> 
> The usual blah: please remember that this work isn't beta read and my tumblr is https://etherealxen.tumblr.com/


	16. Ride with Me Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas go for a drive and a ride in the impala

Dean stood alone in the war room for several minutes. He felt guilty about his outburst. He’d been mean to Cas. Again. Treated Sam like he was a kid. Again. And been an ass in general. Again.

But he was definitely not sorry for smacking Gabriel around the face and telling him where to go.

He did feel like crap though. He rubbed his forehead and sighed, thinking about what he needed. It was something that Sam had taught him since they had returned from ‘that night’. When it became clear that Dean wasn’t going to ask for help and couldn’t answer the questions ‘how can I help?’ or ‘what can I do?’. Gradually Sam had subtly changed the question to ‘what do you need?’ which was usually a question that Dean could answer and if it had been something Sam could help with, then the younger Winchester had been satisfied as well.

It had become his go-to coping mechanism and so he asked himself as he stood there; what did he need? Sleep. He needed more sleep. His head was wrecked and hurting. And comfort. Specific comfort. He needed Baby.

He sluggishly made his way to the garage and over to where the impala sat in the semi darkness, his eyes glad for a rest from his not turning on the main lights. Taking a short moment to admire the way she reflected even the slightest light, Dean opened the passenger door and slid inside. He tossed his keys and phone on the dash and closed the door behind him. There was zero intention of going anywhere, he didn’t want to drive, he just wanted to be surrounded by the familiar smells and feelings of his car while he slept. He wanted to forget everything and having nothing but the smell of leather and oil in the air.

Dean stretched out over the front seat, laying his head on a folded arm in the driver’s seat and his feet propped up on the passenger door. It was a position he had slept in hundreds, maybe thousands of times. He had been too tall for years and now that he had a real bed to sleep in he knew people would find it weird - but no bed on Earth would ever be as comfortable, or as comforting, as his Baby.

His sleep was deep and, for once, devoid of nightmares. And when he woke hours later he was disoriented by the bright, warm afternoon sun on his face, the deep rumble of Baby’s engine running, and the warm leg that had somehow made its way under his head like a pillow. He knew it was Cas in the driver’s seat, the fresh windswept smell of him was unmistakable.

Sighing, Dean rolled onto his back as best he could and opened his eyes. Cas would know he was awake but he was focused on the road ahead. Not concentrating too hard though, Dean noticed, so he guessed they might be on a highway and not in town.

From this angle, laying in Castiel’s lap, the sun streamed in the windows to frame the angel’s face like the halo he no longer had. Dean smiled for a moment, wondering how he - the biggest of screw-ups - had been so blessed. And then he remembered that last time they’d spoken he’d been yelling at his angel. His face fell, wondering if Cas was mad at him. He didn’t look mad. He looked his usual stoic self.

“Help, kidnap?” Dean’s voice was rough from sleep but it didn’t make him sound gruff. The smile on Cas’ face at Dean’s words was reassuring, “Where’re we headed?”

“Just driving,” Cas replied, “Sam is showing Gabriel around the bunker to see if it’s workable for him. When I found you asleep in the impala I thought you might like the drive but it seemed a shame to wake you when you’ve been having such trouble sleeping.”

“Gabe’s at the bunker?”

“Mmhmm.” Dean went quiet and when it became clear that he wasn’t going to speak Castiel added, “your threat to spirit Sam away to Canada was…quite effective.”

The hunter sighed and rubbed his face, feeling bad about his outburst again.

“I was an ass.”

“You were right. About everything.” Dean looked up at Cas over his fingers to see that the angel’s brow had furrowed, “I should take better care of myself.”

“I don’t know how to take care of you, Cas; I need you to do it for me.” Castiel looked down to briefly meet the hunter’s gaze at those words. Dean let his hands fall to rest on his own stomach and simply watched the angel drive for a time. It had been a big admission from him. Taking care of others was what he did, something he needed to do. But to admit that Castiel’s celestial needs might be beyond him was monumental.

“I often don’t know how to look after you either, Dean,” Cas replied with an exasperated sigh, “humans in general are so…complicated. Especially emotionally.”

Dean chuckled, “Guess we better both take better care of ourselves then. For each other.” Cas smiled with a small nod, not taking his eyes off the road.

“That seems like an amiable solution.”

Finally Dean maneuvered himself to sit up and stretched. They were driving down a highway with no other cards in sight down the long stretch of road.

“Where are we?”

“Nowhere particularly.”

“Can we pull over? Need to stretch my legs.”

Cas pulled over and Dean exited the car to take a short walk over to some nearby trees, needing a quick bathroom break. He was relieved that Cas wasn’t angry or hurt about his earlier outburst, and the drive was nice. Zipping up, the hunter started to walk back towards the car, smiling at the way Cas was standing leaning against it with his eyes turned skyward. It was really nice, actually, just cruising along in the sun in his Baby with his angel without much to worry about.

When he made it back to the car he stepped into Cas’ space and gently kissed his cheek, hands falling to the angel’s waist gently.

“Thanks for the ride.” He felt Cas smile as the angel’s hands pressed against his back and pulled him closer.

Dean would never openly admit it, but he had a ‘thing’ where his Baby was involved. Was it that he had just gotten too attached to her from rebuild after rebuild? Probably. But at this point she was a part of him and he’d been trying to find an excuse to get Cas into her for some adult, non-driving fun. Hell, he’d dreamed about it enough times ever since that naked-and-covered-in-bees-on-the-hood incident. Not that he’d ever mention that either. Or the way it had made him never look at honey the same way again.

“We should head back soon, if we’re to make it back before Gabriel leaves.”

Dean didn’t really care if he missed Gabriel, but he understood that Cas would want to see him off. But it seemed like such a rare opportunity to just let it go. Alone, in the middle of nowhere, just him and Cas and the car… He slid his fingers into the waistband of Castiel’s pants suggestively before kissing the angel’s jawline.

“Do we have time for another kind of ride before heaving back, or will I have to pounce you later?”

“Truly, you are irredeemable.” Castiel chuckled.

“Never stopped you trying.” Dean moved to kiss his angel, not quite gently, on the lips and Cas smiled into it happily. He didn’t take much convincing, reaching out to open the rear door.

“You really want to do this in the middle of a highway?” Cas sounded unsure, but not in himself, more skeptical of Dean.

“What, embarrassed?”

Castiel threw Dean a dirty look before slipping into the backseat. They both knew full well that the angel felt no shame or embarrassment, but the jab hit home all the same.

With a smirk, Dean followed and crawled into the backseat, managing to pull the door closed behind them . It seemed cramped with both of them being as broad as they were, but it didn’t matter once Dean was settled on top of Cas; straddling him as he leaned down over him to lock their lips together in a fervid kiss while Cas took hold of his hips.

It had only been a few short weeks but they had already learned so much about each other’s bodies and needs. Castiel had adapted to Dean’s human impatience, and similarly Dean had learned that Cas preferred things little rough. He put it down to the angel’s super human strength. It resulted in their kisses quickly turning desperate and hungry, bites making their way only Cas’ lower lip and making him moan and dig his fingers into the grooves of Dean’s hips.

Human fingers moved to cling to Castiel’s hair and to shoulder as the hunter started kissing and nipping along the sensitive places he’d discovered on the angel’s neck.

They breathed heavily, allowing themselves to get lost in the sensations as Cas pulled Dean’s hips against himself, bringing them flush together, separated only by denim and cotton. Feeling the angel’s half hard length against his inner thigh Dean started to grind against him, coaxing a delicious sigh from the body beneath him. It had surprised the hunter, really, how human the angel could be in times like this when he let go and just let himself enjoy it.

He reached down to unbuckle Cas’ belt and lifted himself up to allow the angel’s pants and underwear to be pushed down around his thighs. He went to work on his own pants next, but in the confines space couldn’t get them down far enough and Cas couldn’t help but chuckle devilishly at Dean’s difficulty.

“Here, let me assist with that.” The angel grabbed the waistband of the problematic jeans and boxers and tugged, they disappeared entirely and Cas’ hands moved to guide Dean back down against him. Dean gasped and licked his lips hungrily as their hardened flesh met, unsure he would ever get used to the feeling of touched like these between their bodies, and equally uncertain he ever wanted to.

Dean braced himself against Cas’ shoulder with one hand, fingers clenching in the tan fabric on his trench as his free hand snaked down between them curling long fingers around them both and stroking their cocks together.

Moaning deeply, Cas’ fingers dug into the flesh of Dean’s ass. He wanted more and the hunter knew it. He could feel the mild tingle of grace run through him that he’d learned was Cas preparing him when more earthly means were unavailable. He was tempted to joke about the angel being a bit presumptuous, but the truth was that he was just as impatient. Leaning forward to kiss Cas desperately once more Dean adjusted his position, he moved forward and moved his hands to brace himself against the back seat and the door behind Castiel’s head.

Cas watched Dean’s face intently as he guided the hunter down onto his stiff length. The hunter’s eyes fluttered closed, his mouth hanging open as he let out a long, low moan. It stung slightly, Dean having finally convinced Cas that some pain was good; and the hunter reveled in it. He wasted no time in starting to move, grinding down hard and rolling his hips to hit that sweet spot inside himself each time he forced himself down.

There wasn’t enough room to really let go and ride his angel the way he wanted, but it was enough. The craped space made everything more desperate, more frantic. All there was room for was each other and the way Cas thrust up desperately into Dean as the hunter rode him as hard as he could.

Frantic, incoherent moans filled the car and they both approached their limit. Smooth fingers wrapped around Dean’s exposed, weeping cock and started pumping him in time with the angel’s desperate thrusts.

“Ah! Shit!” Dean only held out for a few more shuddered thrusts before he came, spurting sticky white strands across Cas’ shirt and tie.

Dean felt Cas’ fingers tighten on his hips, the angel’s second hand moving back there quickly in a tight hold, hard enough to bruise; and quickly reinforced himself against the door and seat, readying himself as Cas fucked up into him hard and fast until he reached his own completion a minute later . Cas’ eyes glowed and he sighed blissfully as he filled Dean with his hot ecstasy.

The hunter was spent. His body trembled slightly and he needed Cas’ help to move. The angel pulled him up and brought them both to sitting before kissing his human gently.

“Sorry about your tie.” Dean said sheepishly and not meaning a word of it. Cas only smiled.

“I’ll fix it,” He passed Dean his jeans from wherever he had spirited them away to, “get dressed, a highway patrolmen is coming down the road.” Cas pulled up his pants, magically cleaned his shirt and tie and slipped out of the car as Dean struggled with his boxers and jeans in the confined space and swore. He made it out into the sunshine just as the patrol vehicle was pulling over nearby.

“You fellas having trouble?” the patrolman asked casually as he exited the vehicle.

“No trouble,” Dean replied as casually as he could while ignoring Castiel’s smirk, “Just a long drive so we stopped to catch some shut eye. Road fatigue kills, you know. We were about to be on our way.”

Castiel held up the keys he still had for emphasis before slipping into the driver’s seat.

“Uh huh” The patrolman didn’t buy the story at all, but they were leaving so he didn’t seem to care.

Dean got in the passenger seat as Cas fired up Baby’s engine and they drove off, throwing a U-turn to head back to the bunker.

“Get that smirk off your face,” Dean said not-quite-seriously unable to keep the grin off his own face. Castiel only chuckled again and increased their speed, “You’re a pain in the ass, Cas.”

“You like the pain in your ass.” Cas replied, his smirk only growing. Dean shifted in his seat, enjoying the ache from where Cas had been inside him.

“Getting better with those double meanings, Angel,” Dean smiled, “But yeah, I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this isn't how chapter 16 was gonna go. Chapter 16 failed. About four times. (which is why it's taken so damn long) and in the end I just yelled at the boys to go and have a quicky in the impala and think about what they'd done. So...that's how this happened? But it helped! The Chapter 16 that wasn't can now be skipped over and then Chapter 17 is already written and will be uploaded soon and...chapter 17 is the last chapter! I hope you've all been enjoying the ride. 
> 
> Thanks for everyone that's been reading and leaving kudos and comments! You guys make me feel good about myself. 
> 
> Usual blah: this bollocks ain't beta read. here's my tumblr: https://etherealxen.tumblr.com/


	17. Angelsong

When Dean and Castiel made it back to the bunker they found Sam and Gabriel were both still present and accounted for. They were in the kitchen, Gabriel leaning against the counter as he watched Sam making a start on what would be the Winchesters’ dinner.

“Where have you two been?” Sam asked as he placed a pot of water on the stove, “We looked around for you but all we found was that the impala was gone without a word.”

The younger human was clearly trying not to show his concern so Dean ignored it and headed to the fridge in search of beer. He didn’t know whether Gabriel drank at all, let alone whether he drank beer - maybe it would be too bitter for his sweet tooth - but he grabbed a fourth bottle for the archangel anyway, having resolved on the way home to at least try and make an effort. For Sammy’s sake.

“When we returned from California,” Cas was explaining, “I found Dean asleep in the impala. Instead of waking him I took the keys off the dash and took him for a drive.”

Dean placed the four beers on the counter and Sam eyed him warily, unable to keep the concern off his face this time.

“You were asleep in the impala?”

Dean nodded. He knew that there were all kinds of connotations that went along with his taking a nap in Baby that only Sam would understand, but he also knew that his brother wouldn’t like go into it in front of the angels so he just held a beer out to him.

“I’m good, Sammy.” He gave a small smile and Sam took the beer skeptically.

“Okay, sure.” Sam opened the beer and went back to cooking.

Dean turned his attention to Cas and Gabriel who had started talking happily between themselves and he couldn’t help but smile. Even Cas, who always seemed so uptight and high strung, was so relaxed when talking to Gabriel. He had said that Gabe had been the brother he was closest to all those centuries ago before the archangel fled Heaven and it seemed like that bond had never broken. It was nice to see.

Picking up two of the beers, Dean made his way over and held one out to each of the smiling angels. Cas took his gratefully but Gabriel raised an eyebrow at the gesture.

“Don’t like beer?” Dean asked, “I’m afraid all else we have is whiskey. Maybe vodka.”

“I’ll make do.” Gabriel took the bottle and shook it gently, the liquid inside turned clear and when he opened the bottle peppermint could be smelled throughout the kitchen.

“So, what do you think of our secret lair?” There was more behind the question than what was asked and judging by the way Sam stiffened in Dean’s peripheral vision, none of these important questions had been asked yet.

“Well…” Gabriel sipped his schnapps and pretended that he didn’t notice Sam’s worried stance, “you’ve done a decent job with the warding, needs some work though. And the place is pretty bland, there’s nothing of you three. You inhabit this place you don’t live here. That needs to change or I’ll be bored as hell.”

Sam turned from his pasta sauce, relief written on his face, “You’ll stay?”

“Yeah Samsquatch, I’ll stay,” Gabriel smiled at his gentle giant, “This place is actually pretty serviceable. It doesn’t have the magical overlay the church does, but other than that it’s probably more defensible. I’m comfortable with the change. That is, if I’m welcome.”

Sam looked ready to leap over the counter and do something not meant for public eyes, and totally unsanitary for a kitchen. So Dean nipped it in the bud by clapping Gabriel on the shoulder reassuringly,

“Of course you’re welcome. I won’t kill you if you don’t kill me. Deal?”

“Deal.” Gabriel smirked that scheming smirk but it seemed like everything was going to be okay.

“What about Saint Michaels?” Cas was the one to pose the question. Leaving seemed like kind of a big deal, even to Dean. They had haboured Gabriel, without even knowing what he was; and he had put them at risk to hide there.

Gabriel looked thoughtful for a moment before answering, “I would like to thank them properly before leaving.”

“You want to reveal yourself to them?” Castiel sounded concerned but Gabriel nodded.

“Just the priests, not the congregation.” He elaborated, “Some of them have doubts. Questions. I can help them before I abandon them and the wards will keep them safe.”

“That’s a huge risk Gabe.” Sam didn’t like the sound of it, and frankly neither did Dean.

“It’s the right thing.” Gabriel looked to Cas imploringly who nodded.

“Fine. What can I do?”

“You too?” Dean looked at him incredulously.

“Gabriel _did_ hide me at the church while I recovered,” Castiel elaborated, “They don’t know it but I owe them a debt too.”

“Great. We’re going to make them a freaking target.” Dean rubbed his face worryingly but Castiel ignored him and repeated his question to Gabriel.

“What do you need?”

“Help me answer their questions, show the shadows of your wings,” he took another sip of his schnapps before adding, “and _sing with me._ ”

“You’re going to sing for them?”

“Wait!” Sam butted in, “Is that safe?”

“Once will be fine,” Gabriel smirked, not taking his eyes of Cas who was considering the proposal.

“No, no, no.” Dean held up his hands defiantly, “That’s not fair. Why should some random priests get to hear Cas sing if I haven’t?”

“Then come watch.” Castiel said before sipping his beer. Gabriel’s grin widened. He’d gotten his way and finally convinced Cas to sing with him all in one breath. That was a win in anyone’s book.

“Alright,” Sam sighed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair, “dinner first. Then I guess it’s back to California. Again.”

“Last trip for a while, Samshine,” Gabriel said, a touch of melancholy in his voice, “you’ll miss it in a week.”

“If you say so.” Sam shook his head and chuckled, pulling out plates and dishing out pasta to everyone present. Dean noticed that Gabriel didn’t need to do something ridiculous like cover it in chocolate syrup to make it edible.

The meal was practically jovial. The four of them talking and laughing like they were almost a normal family. It was nice, Dean couldn’t deny it, to see Sam and Cas laughing and the atmosphere with Gabriel around was so light. Dean was almost able to forget all the dark things just out of sight at the edge of his mind. Almost. He found himself laughing right along with the others.

And then dinner was over and Dean began to clear up. San and cooked so washing up fell to him. But as he reached for Sam’s plate the younger hunter gently grabbed his wrist.

“Maybe it can wait?” He asked gently, but Dean knew what he meant. It was already approaching seven. If they wasted too much more time it would be too late to go to California. And then there’d be time for doubt and second guessing. Not from Gabriel, but from Sam.

Nodding, Dean put down the plates he held and looked to the angels across the table. They seemed to be in some deep discussion about the origin of some star system the hunter had never heard of.

“Cas, Gabe? You guys ready to go?”

“Of course,” Cas replied before turning to Gabriel, “you’re sure about everything?”

“Yep.” Gabriel stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. He looked nervous but they all knew that he would never admit it.

They gathered together and got ready to go. With a deep breath Dean closed his eyes and prepared to be taken along for the ride that was angelic flight.

He felt the familiar rush of wind in his hair and the sudden drop of his stomach and waited a moment for it to settle before opening his eyes.

They were standing across the street from Saint Michael’s. The large stone building looked more formidable in the twilight than it had earlier, and when Dean saw Gabriel step forward he saw a shimmer and the last of the angel’s disguise fell. His clothing returning to those old faded jeans and sneakers, and that weathered jacket he had always favoured.

As they crossed the road the doors to the cathedral opened and people began spilling out from the end of evening mass. Polite greetings directed at Gabriel met them as they crowd moved to the side and let them ascend the the steps to enter.

Just inside the door five priests stood, one with holy orders different in such a way to show his superiority, saying good night to the congregation.

The eldest man, clearly the senior of the priests, breathed an obvious sigh of relief when he saw Gabriel and pulled his aside for what would have been a reprimand for anyone else. But the short archangel took his hands gently and spoke firmly. The others couldn’t hear from their place by the door, but the older man nodded.

Gabriel waved them in and the remaining trio entered awkwardly to follow him up the aisle.

“Gabe?” Sam left the question mostly unspoken as he and Dean moved to sit in the second pew from the front.

“No one ever misses evening mass here,” Gabriel replied quietly, “They were worried.”

“Understandable,” Cas said from where he stood beside the archangel, “What did you say?”

“That I would explain everything.” Gabriel’s hands were back in his pockets nervously, “And that I need to confess something to the brothers.”

“Too late to turn back then?” Dean asked Gabe shrugged as they all heard the large wooden doors close after the last parishioner.

“I wouldn’t even if it wasn’t.” Gabriel’s gaze moved to the approaching priests and he indicated to the pew in front of Sam and Dean, “Please sit. We need to talk.”

“Gabriel,” One of the younger priests asked, “Where have you been, and who are these men?”

“Well,” Gabriel hesitated a moment, unsure of how to start. So he began with introductions, starting by indicating to the dark-haired man at his side, “This is Cas. Castiel. He’s my brother. Sitting behind you are Sam and Dean Winchester. Sam’s the tall one, Dean’s the grumpy one.”

“Brother? We didn’t know you had any family.”

“Our family…” Cas cut in with a sigh, “Is immense and complex.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” Gabriel agreed with a nod.

“And where have you been since this morning?” The older priest asked with concerned authority.

“Kansas, mostly.” The group laughed, certain he was joking, until they realised that neither Gabriel or his brother, nor the pair behind them seemed to be sharing in the joke.

“We live in Kansas,” Dean said from behind them, “We had Gabe drop in for the afternoon and dinner.”

“Very funny,” One of the middle aged priests rolled his eyes, “if you were in Kansas for dinner how did you get back here in time for curfew?”

“…I flew.” Gabriel swallowed hard and he could feel Cas move closer protectively. Revealing one’s divinity to humans was always a risk and had been all through history. “The truth is that…I’m not a priest. I’m not even human. I’m an angel of the highest order - the archangel Gabriel. And my brother, Castiel, is a Seraphim, the angel of Thursdays.”

There was silence while what Gabriel had said sank in. Bur it was clear that none of the men seated before them believed a word of it.

“Gabriel…” The older man leaned forward gently, ready to make excuses for what had been said. But Gabriel cut him off by setting his caramel eyes aglow with golden light and letting the shadows of his golden wings fill the walls around them. Castiel followed suit, his eyes glowing blue and the black shadows of his wings filling the walls alongside Gabriel’s.

“We _are_ angels of the Lord,” Castiel said firmly, “and you should feel privileged to be trusted with this knowledge.”

Dean smirked and licked his lips as he heard Sam snicker beside him, “What?” He whispered

“Really? Sam whispered back, an eyebrow raised, “Can’t control yourself for five minutes?”

“I can’t help it when he’s all commanding like that, shit.” Sam just shook his head and laughed some more.

They whispered between themselves for a time while Gabriel and Cas, having let their grace fall once more, answered questions of history and faith. The priests asked, of course, about God and the beginning and the evolution of man. Of Heaven and Hell and Purgatory; and the weight of sin.

And then the youngest of them asked the question they had all been curious about, and Sam and Dean fell silent.

“But you’re so progressive,” he said, his face distorted in confusion, “You don’t preach at all like the previous generations do, let alone like you were present during the old testament. You preach tolerance, love, and mercy and those aren’t always laid out in the old laws.”

Castiel and Gabriel looked to each other meaningfully and Dean was sure that they were communicating silently.

“The truth is…” Cas Spoke delicately, “Most of the laws and rules laid out in the bible were man’s doing. Not our father’s. True he doesn’t condone murder and the like, generally; but whether you eat pork or shellfish or have tattoos - he doesn’t care.”

“He doesn’t care if people are gay either, he created them that way.” Gabriel added, “Or if people cheat on their wives - though that’s pretty dickish.”

“God…doesn’t care?”

“God’s had gay lovers.” Dean piped up from behind them, they turned aghast.

“Blasphemy!”

“No, it’s true.” Cas nodded and Gabriel looked to him, an eyebrow raised.

“Really? He has been busy since he left. Go Dad.”

The priests were shaken, their entire worldview and their faith in question. But the angels were gentle and patient. They talked and answered questions for hours until no more questions would come.

It was late when the older priest turned to Gabriel and finally asked why the archangel had chosen to tell them now, after so long.

“It’s time for me to go.” Gabriel said solemnly, “But I couldn’t leave without letting you know the truth and without thanking you for hiding me.”

“But we didn’t _do_ anything!” One of the middle aged priests protested and Gabriel and Cas both laughed quietly.

“You’ve done far more than you realise,” Cas said, “ I recently had to regrow my wings, it took weeks. Gabriel his me here and you all kept me safe without knowing I existed.”

“You’ve harboured angels that are wanted. Hunted. And we’re grateful,” Gabriel continued, “The church is very well protected and if in dire need you can call on me. Don’t pray to my father if you’re in desperate trouble, pray to me. Or Cas. But you must never tell anyone of your revelation here. What we’ve talked about tonight isn’t the gospel. It’s not to be spread.”

There was a long silence as what he said sank in. The angels and hunters waited patiently. These were pious men that had cared for Gabriel thinking he was a quirky priest with radical ideas. And now they found out that he was not on an angel - an archangel - but that they were to keep secret all that he had revealed to them about the universe. None of them would ever preach the same again, how could they knowing what they now knew? But they were faithful, and they would keep Gabriel’s secret.

“Is there anything else we can do?” The older priest asked. He seemed to fumble over the question, like it was ridiculous to offer at all. Gabriel smiled.

“I’d like to sing here one last time if you’ll let us sing for you?”

“Of course?” The priests all seemed more confused than ever, having never heard the archangel sing in the first place.

“Excellent.” Dean relaxed back in the pew and one of the priests looked back to him, “What? This is what I came for.”

“You’re an odd man.”

“Buddy, you have no idea.” Dean just grinned and Sam laughed as they watched Cas and Gabriel step back.

A three-legged, wooden stool appeared from nowhere at Gabriel’s whim and the Winchesters shook their heads at the gasps of wonder from the priests at the simple display of magic. If they only knew. Gabriel say down and in his hands appeared a golden acoustic guitar; nearby Castiel stood and lifted his arms, a silver violin appearing on his shoulder.

“Cas plays violin?” Sam asked but Dean could only shrug.

“All I’ve ever known is that he _doesn’t_ play the harp.”

Gabriel started to pluck the strings of his guitar and both Winchesters instantly recognised the tune to ‘Dust in the Wind’. It was an interesting choice, Dean thought, having expected the angels to sing some kind of Enochian hymn or something. He couldn’t help but wonder about that, was it something to do with the whole ‘not wanting to commune with Heaven’ thing? He’d ask Cas later. For now he turned to Sam.

“What was Gabe singing when you caught him the last time?” He whispered.

“Personal Jesus.” Sam whispered back with a smirk. Dean would have laughed at the very ego of it if the archangel hadn’t started singing at that moment. The cathedral filled with a voice that pulled at him in a way no human voice could. He still sounded like Gabriel, but he also didn’t; and there were layers to his voice that Dean knew he was the only human there capable of comprehending. The gentle caress on the edge of his brain that used to be claws before Cas changed him was there stroking his mind as Gabriel sang. He felt light, hopeful, elevated; and it seemed almost painful to look away and see that Sam, despite the screeching that must have been in the back of his mind, had an expression that could only mean he was experiencing the same feeling.

And Dean understood. Humans shouldn’t hear this. Not regularly. Not often. Humans would fight wards or kill themselves to chase this feeling and the sound of angelsong. It could control armies. It could be a weapon. But right now it was a gift.

Cas joined on the second verse and his voice was just as magical. Deeper than Gabriel’s but the gravelly tone that was there when he spoke was gone - his singing voice smooth and silky. They were beautifully in harmony and Dean’s soul started to ache. And then Cas started the violin, singing the last short verse solo as he played. The hunter had never seen anyone play violin while singing before, it seemed like it would be difficult. Especially since the sound of a second violin was coming from somewhere unknown.

It was as if the world had ceased to exist outside of the sound of those otherworldly instruments and those holy voices; and as the music ended and silence fell within the Cathedral Dean had to remind himself to breathe. His soul still hurt and he could feel it trying to pull him towards Cas and Gabriel in the same way he’d been pulled to Castiel’s blade while it was in his care. It was too much. He went to rub his face and realised it was wet - when were there tears? It scared him. It was only music. Only singing. It was just Cas and Gabe. And yet he was so at their mercy.

Gabriel and Cas had started talking and Sam had gotten up to walk over. But Dean needed a minute. He stood and made his way out of the pew and headed for the door. He knew Cas saw him, saw the gentle look the angel gave him and he turned down the aisle. It was okay. It would be okay. He just needed a moment.

The hunter headed outside into the night. It had gotten late but it wasn’t cold. He rubbed hard at his tear-streaked face. Despite having had angels in his life for so long, despite having met God, Dean had never had what he would call a religious or spiritual experience. Not until he’d heard Gabriel and Castiel sing.

He stayed out there, calming down, coming down from that beautiful spiritual high full of purpose until he heard the door open behind him and Castiel walked out.

“Are you alright?” The seraph moved close and looked hard at Dean’s face, “it affects you more because of the change I made in you. You hear the undertones.” Dean’s eyes were darting over Cas’ features, unable to focus on just one and his ears strained to hear more of him. To hear his true voice. Dean wrapped his arms around himself, trying to soothe the ache in his soul.

“Cas…” His voice wavered uncertainly, “You could ask me to kill every human and beast in creation in that voice. And I would.”

“I know, Dean,” The angel cupped the hunter’s face in his hand and moved forward to kiss him gently, “That’s why it’s dangerous. But I would never ask that of you.”

Dean nodded wearily. He felt small and tired. With arms as gentle as the expression in his eyes, Cas pulled him close and just held him close. Keeping him together and whole. They stayed that way until the door opened again, Gabriel and Sam chatting happily as they exited.

“We good?” Sam asked, eying his brother carefully as he and Cas pulled apart.

“Yeah, we’re good.” Dean cleared his throat and headed down the stone steps. “Anything else we need to do before heading home? Anything we need to pick up from the apartment?”

“Nah, the apartment if in a pocket dimension. I can deal with it later. Let’s go get you a beer Dean-bean.” Gabriel smiled but then Sam cut in.

“Wait, we _do_ have one more stop.” He smirked at Gabriel who rolled his eyes.

“You’re worse than me, you’ll get fat!”

“I don’t even care!” Sam ran down the steps and led the way down the street, “besides, I hunt monsters for a living and jog every day. I think I’m good.”

By the time they had walked to the small Polish deli Dean was feeling much better, but as he watched his brother buy a ridiculous amount of kielbasa, some cooked (’to eat when we get home’) and some not (’for the freezer’) he started to worry about the younger hunter’s state of mind.

They flew back to the bunker and settled in for beer and their midnight snack.

“Oh my god.” Dean took his first bite and looked to his brother like he’d somehow found something sacred, “this is amazing!”

“Right?” Sam was just as excited and Cas laughed at him, he always took joy in how they relished food.

“We don’t know what they put in it,” Sam continued, “But there has to be something in there other than the standard recipe.”

“Like what? Cocaine?” Dean spoke through a full mouth and was already reaching to add more to his still hall-full plate. Gabriel nearly choked on his drink at Dean’s comment and Sam grinned, “What?”

“Nothin’,” Sam said, taking a mouthful of his beer, “but I think after a short adjustment period we’re all going to be fine.”

“Of course we will,” Cas said from his place beside Dean, “We’re always fine. Cocaine laced sausage or no.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for coming, reading, staying, and playing! I hope you've all enjoyed my little drabble turned ramble! Also, I apologise for any formatting weirdness throughout the fic - I primarily use scrivener and I'm not sure it translates well when I copy it over sometimes. 
> 
> Headcanon update for this chapter: All angels sing. All angels love music. All angels play instruments. I picked the violin for Cas because I felt it suited him. Guitar for Gabe, again because it suits him, but I also feel like he would play piano. Also, gold instruments for archangels and silver for seraphs because that seems reasonable. 
> 
> Usual Blah: Not beta read. Tumblr: https://etherealxen.tumblr.com/
> 
> Other: Dust in the Wind by Kansas on spotify: https://open.spotify.com/track/4E0lSJ6c5unoku9UIZoJSl?si=QB6qrDHxSra10ShrOIan_A


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